A Study in Solar
Chapter 4
By Trynia Merin
A half-hour later, they both sat in a small white room. Sherlock ran his fingers over the curved chilly walls. He still marveled at the smoothness of the texture. It must be that material Lestrade called "plastic." There seemed to be a lot of it about in the future. Nothing like wood or metal, he was accustomed to.
Space Marine soldiers buzzed around them, waving miniature x-ray scanners over them. Another Marine, with officer's rank, pressed small jell covered disks to his bare neck, right over the neck vein. He could only guess what they were checking for.
"They show no signs of infection or illness," one voice said to another. Other voices spoke in strange technical lingo he couldn't comprehend. Holmes felt like a cow being inspected at a market. To these soldiers they were like some new weapon, to be examined and tested.
Each eye scanned his clothing. His plaid was the only cheerful splash of color in this gray and black place. Only the reds and gold's on some Marine uniforms interrupted the monotone hues all around him and the inspector.
Both Holmes and Lestrade sat on low plastic tables. Crinkly white paper covered each, under where he sat. It crackled as he shifted his weight forwards. It also felt as antiseptic as Watson's bottle of rubbing alcohol, a smell that he curled his nose at. The smell hung in the room, chilling his nostrils and setting his teeth on edge. A very clean smell but distressing.
"I'm Inspector Lestrade from New Scotland Yard," said Lestrade. "From Earth. They requested a specialist to look at this situation..."
"Scan her identity chip."
Lestrade rolled up her sleeve. Gritting her teeth with impatience, she endured the faint tingling itch. Simultaneously, someone rolled up Holmes's sleeve.
"No chip!" they suddenly said, mystified.
"What do you mean?"" asked one of the Space Marines. Lestrade slipped close to her companion. "The implants might be in a different place," she said. "After all, those Earth implants don't always put them on the correct arm. Try his left."
"This is ridiculous," Holmes sighed. "Are all victims of a crash treated like this?"
"Hush now. They're busy people," she urged him. She gripped his arm and gave it a reassuring pressure.
"Scan again," the Lieutenant told the private. A few seconds later, they scratched their heads.
"She was right. Says here that he's under her command as a consulting detective. Says he's Sherlock Holmes!"
"Right," laughed the other.
"Oh for heaven's sake," Holmes sighed. "Are the others from the crash all right?"
"They are fine and well," the doctor said to him. "But that doesn't explain why your implant wasn't in the right place!"
"Maybe they worked their way out of the skin," said Lestrade impatiently. "You can never tell with those micro-implants. They tend to drift..."
"All right, all right," sighed the Lieutenant. "You're in order. I'm taking you to the Commander…"
They were soon taken with the other crewmembers of the William Wallace down a long series of corridors. Holmes passed a door to Airlock three, and peered through the transparent glass window. Space suited astronauts were peeling off suits as the passengers passed through the area. They had been rescued, and were being hustled to the sickbay.
Holmes carried his duffle bag over one shoulder. Lestrade toted her hard cased luggage and micro-laptop. The detective found himself bored looking at the long white paneled corridors. How come they could make a space Resort look so appealing, and at the same time let a space station look so drab.
Beneath the stretchable fabric of her uniform, Lestrade's muscles seemed to glide. Black and white patches curved over her hips, back and bosom. Such an outfit seemed a crime compared to the tight black dress she wore the night before. She really was attractive, he thought, but had not usually allowed himself to consider her in that way. Other technicians passed them in the corridors. Occasional portholes allowed them a glimpse of the rotating stars swirling past. Five technicians still wearing their tartans followed Holmes and Lestrade.
"This is the Control Center," she said, passing a set of double doors. But we're reporting to the commander's office first."
"Ah, security reasons, I imagine," said Holmes. "Protocols and all. The same reception we received in sickbay?"
"Calm down Holmes," said Lestrade, shaking her head.
Two low doors swung open into the curved office. A normal desk, several puff chairs, and built- in computer terminals decked the room.
Behind the desk sat a blond haired gentleman. He rose, and shook William Cameron's hand. "Good to see you sir. I am sorry about the crash…"
"Thank you for your timely rescue," the Earl said. "Without your Space Marines we couldn't have made it…"
"A space marine base, typical," Lestrade mumbled. "Always suspicious of even the Yardies."
She said this as she leaned over to Holmes. He nodded and said, "Well considering we crashed in a military zone… and didn't land as requested at the station orbiting the planet… could you blame them for thinking we were suspicious. These military minds seem to all think that if it's not in the record, it's not official…"
Eyes falling on the Inspector, the Command moved over to her and shook her hand as well, an apologetic look in his blue eyes, as he said, "Good to see you, Lestrade. Lernov said you'd be here from Earth, and you're investigating the Nusolar power failures." he smiled.
Holmes noticed that at the mention of Lernov, Lestrade blushed. He guessed that there was definitely a previous connection between them that he had not surmised. The Commander turned to Holmes asking, "Who is your friend?"
"This is Mr. Holmes. He's come to help me with the investigation," said Lestrade.
"I'm here to offer a second opinion," said Holmes, cutting in. "It's a most mysterious unconventional phenomenon."
"Good. We could benefit from some outside diagnoses," smiled the Commander, shaking Sherlock's hand. The detective noted his strong firm grip.
"Most of the shuttles have been replaced with Space yachts owned by prominent Scottish families," said Holmes. "But their solar sails seemed to have failed. Any reason why in your opinion…"
"Why am I always the last to know these things," muttered Leo Ryan, turning. He punched his voice link badge angrily. "Sergey, what in blazes is going on? With those Space Marines."
"I just received a transmission from the Space Guard. They say that all shuttles and cargo ships not nuclear powered are commandeered for military and relief efforts. The only transports between stations are private vessels, donated or commandeered by civilians."
Leo sighed. "Next time, kindly give a shout before the news hits the fan."
"But my Commander, you were only just promoted," came the Russian voice over the link. "It would not do to overload you with our little problems."
"All right," he snapped. "I admit it. My little problems are not as important as this one. Go ahead. Say it. Say I told you so."
A Russian phrase smoothed calmly over the link. Lestrade grinned to herself. Hamish shook his head. Some personal joke, no doubt.
"There. I said it in Russian, as not to offend my dear Commander."
"All right Lieutenant Lernov," he said. "That's good enough."
"The technicians from the William Wallace are here t'help with repairs," said William Cameron "They should be boarding by now."
"That's one thing I was told in advance," said Leo Ryan. "I'm sorry about your ship. We're going to do our best to repair it…"
"So what exactly happened at this station," asked the Doctor.
"Massive power failures."
"Was this because the solar panels were malfunctioning?" Holmes asked. "And they were Nusolar, I presume…"
"Exactly. Luckily we have the ion power plant, an experimental model, on board. It was just installed. But it won't last for long. It runs on beryllium like our defensive laser."
"Are all these power failures due to the solar cells, or because the units themselves are not functioning?" asked Holmes.
"It was a temporary power fluctuation," said Leo Ryan. "Those stations further out were not hit as badly as those closer to the Sun."
"How about the solar activity readings?" Holmes asked.
"Yes. Hopefully the solar power panels can be replaced with Solarex panels before our beryllium stores exhaust."
"I think that the Nusolar cloth was itself affected," said Holmes. "Due to a sensitivity to high levels of solar radiation…"
"How so? Why would it be effected and not Solarex?"
"I was just thinking," said Holmes. "Solar flares have been quite active haven't they only recently?"
"Yes…. But I don't see why…"
"Your systems on the planet use the Nusolar polymer to capture sunlight. Perhaps high levels of ions from the solar flares destroy the bond structure of Nusolar. Yet Solarex has a different chemical structure that is solar flair resistant…"
"Then why did the Wallace crash?" asked Lestrade. "If it was using Solarex?"
"Simple, Lestrade," said Holmes. "The ship was berthed at the space hotel. And there WERE technicians repairing her. Some of them were replacing parts of the solar sails with new polymer when I looked out the view ports."
"I didn't notice…"
"Eyes and brains," he said. "And since Solarex is rare lately, they must have used Nusolar, which is easier to come by on Earth, but Solarex is used in most of the stations here, except for the space station here…"
"True," said Ryan. "It seems that we had some Solarex stockpiled, but it wasn't the latest thing. And unfortunately when I was off on a training seminar, the Solarex was replaced with Nusolar…"
"Who was in command when you were not here?" asked Lestrade.
"Lieutenant Commander Rosschild," he said.
"Interesting. Now, is solar power the only option available?"
"Good heavens, no," said Lestrade. "Some of Earth's cities are solar powered. But some use fusion energy."
"How unfortunate that most ships run on fusion reactors," muttered Holmes. "Is there an adequate supply of Solarex on your base?"
"There's a Solarex manufacturing plant in Lowell City on Mars, and a plant nearby at Sagan City," said Leo Ryan. "Since the disaster, we've been trying to authorize shipments to replace the panels with the Solarex…"
"That caused the shortage," Holmes said. "Everyone replacing Nusolar with Solarex… but those who couldn't afford Solarex went with Nusolar… a cheaper alternative…"
"How did you know?" Lestrade asked.
"I took the liberty of examining a sample of both polymers. Your modern analysis depends on spectrometry. But I used a chemical means of analysis. It seems that during the polymerization process, Nusolar can be damaged if exposed to hydrochloric acid… at a very fine concentration. And then it is sufficiently weakened so that high levels of solar energy will cause it to degrade and overload…"
"Hydrochloric acid?" Leo Ryan asked.
"Yes. And one of the best cleaning supplies that I have seen for cleaning the grime off of glass panels is a dilute solution containing chlorate ions. But if someone spiked it with a small concentration of hydrochloric acid each time it was cleaned…"
"Wait you're saying someone spiked a cleaner?" Lestrade laughed. "How is THAT related to the explosions?"
"Good question," Holmes said. "The solar panels have to be free of grit and grime, correct Commander?"
"Yes," he nodded.
"Watson confirmed that," said Holmes with a nod. "He said that the solar sails on ships are often damaged by meteorites. And frequently the sails are patched, and cleaned with a special solution in space dock."
"But who would benefit?" asked Lestrade.
"Who indeed," Sherlock said mysteriously.
Several; hours passed, as the necessary negotiations happened. Lestrade and Holmes were allowed free reign of the residential quarters, and the small science unit. At first, the high security seemed annoying, but Sherlock soon realized it was exciting to explore the base. He delighted in the modern wonders of this place.
Corridors spoked out like a spider's web from a central hub. Like most military bases, Rhea station worked its way under the planet's surface. A whole garrison of Space Marines lived, ate, worked, and breathed in close proximity on their tours of duty. Apart from the comet outposts. Many of the soldiers had once been Mars's colonists. They enjoyed serving on the rust-covered fields and cream rose skies of their adopted home world. Pieces of familiarity were plastered on the curved corridor walls: posters, airbrush paintings, small potted plants. Regimented military life was all any had known for the last two years. Such a structure threaded together the diverse lives of each private and officer. Only occasionally could they venture to Lowell City for an R and R.
Now they headed out to the canteen to get something to eat. Lestrade and Holmes stepped out into an emptied room. There was a strange silence about the place. Even though there were still people sitting at tables, nobody spoke in the room. Everyone was grim.
Lestrade glanced sideways at Holmes. "What a sorry group of people," she commented. "You'd think that someone had died."
"They've been under a lot of stress, Lestrade, considering what has been happening with the frequent power failures."
Lestrade's eyes fell on a familiar man standing up from one table. He shook his head and wandered over, and Holmes noticed the look of angst on her face. She whispered, "Excuse me but I have someone to talk to, Holmes."
"Lestrade?" Holmes asked as she walked by him.
"Later… you just do your detective thing… mingle."
"Very well," Holmes sighed as he watched her join the young space marine, which waved her into the hallway. Both disappeared quickly, leaving Holmes alone with the group.
Two Marines leaned over a chessboard. Another group clustered around a table, each buried in personal communiqué tapes. Holmes approached the people, and asked softly, "Excuse me, anyone for coffee?"
The corporal did a double take, and glanced at her. "Well, I thought I was hallucinating. I just saw a civvie."
"He's surely real enough," said the other enlisted man across from him.
One of the female soldiers shook her head and smiled grimly. "Where'd you come from?"
"I'm just visiting . . . I came with the inspector," said Holmes, pulling out a chair and sitting down. "Does anyone want anything to drink, coffee, tea . . . hot chocolate?"
"You look a little bit overdressed for KP duty mister," said the enlisted man.
"Well considering the atmosphere, it looks like all of you could use something hot to drink," Holmes said conversationally.
"It's over here. In the kitchen," said one of the privates. Holmes disappeared with Private Alvarez. Minutes later the two men brought out trays of hot tea and coffee, with food concentrates, and wandered around the tables casually, dispensing beverages. Sherlock returned to the table where the two were playing chess, and looked over the shoulder of the corporal.
"I'm not gonna sit here the rest of the night," said the corporal to her opponent. "Make a move, Chang."
"Don't rush me. This is a precision game."
"Precise for whom?" Holmes asked casually.
Both of them looked up at him. "Who brought in the civilian?" she asked.
"Oh, just visiting. My friends and I have been enlisted for morale support. By the Colonel."
"I told you he'd come around," said Chang. "He's not always on the hyper wave."
"You wouldn't know it," muttered the corporal. "How'd you get here? All the ships are down."
"Er, I have my own transport. My friends and I were just, passing through when we saw the mood here. You could spot it from ten light hours away."
"What do you mean?"
"A general cloud of doom. Why it's almost a visible manifestation," Holmes said, adding a touch of drama. He was absent from his Inverness and deerstalker, but still retained his cane and an ID badge pinned to his vest.
"That obvious, eh?"
"I've got you check and mate in five moves," said Chang, slipping his bishop up.
"What was that?"" asked the Corporal, advancing her night.
"Check."
"Are you altogether sure you want to do that?" asked Holmes, leaning hands on his thighs.
"I've got her. It's the domino effect."
Coolly, the corporal slipped her queen into position, taking his bishop. Chang took her queen, only to fall prey to a night he'd missed. "What the?" said Chang, surprised.
"The man did warn you," said the Corporal. A smile hinted behind her serious facade.
"I could show you a good strategy," Sherlock said with a polite smile.
"Yeah right," laughed the corporal.
"This should prove interesting," said Chang.
"First time in a while I've had the privilege of playing chess in quite a while," Holmes smiled. "And with such an attractive opponent one too."
"You say that to all the girls who play you, don't you?" the Corporal asked him, with a slight smile on her face.
"Perhaps you could humor him," laughed Chang. "He looks like fresh kill… don't let the lady bug you. She'll let you down easily."
"We shall see," said Sherlock Holmes as he set up the pieces, and looked at the Corporal with a smile in his blue eyes. The Corporal, amused, held up the two chess pieces for him to pick. Holmes tapped her hand, and she opened it to reveal the black pawn.
"Good…" Holmes said. "Now… let us begin."
Meanwhile Lestrade followed the gentleman, his black hair and light brown eyes fixing into hers with a warm smile. He said, "Been a long time, Beth."
"Sergey," she said softly. "It has been ages."
"Have they been treating you well in the Yard?' he asked her as he indicated a table, and pulled out a chair for her. Both of them sat down opposite one another, and Lestrade sighed at the sudden memories running through her head.
"Yeah, you could say so," she said wistfully.
"You should have come with me," Lernov said softly, reaching across the table to take her hand.
"I couldn't…" Lestrade shook her head. "I mean I wanted to… but you and I had different goals."
"I only wanted to make you happy… take you away from your family, they were only holding you back."
"Sergey, I know," she sighed. "But you know how it is… my work is the most important thing to me… not the domestic thing and popping out kids!"
"Nepradva li, that is what I would have expected from you," he sighed. "Always the lone wolf… aren't we?"
"Better then a bear," she mumbled.
"Both predators, and both alone… but both powerful animals," said Sergey, leaning across to take her hand. She felt his hot breath on her face, and flushed.
"It wouldn't work," she said flatly. "It's been two years."
"Beth, please, we have so little time… why not spend it together… enjoying one another. It gets very lonely here."
"What bout Lowell city?" Beth asked with a wry grin.
"Well, there are few women with your fire, your zest for living," he said with a slow smile over his young face. "And you always did live for adventure… here on Mars we make a good living. I have a nice small place… with a bottle of chilled vodka. And cranberry juice. We could sit down and talk about old times… and have a drink or two…"
"Breakfast in bed?" Beth asked slowly.
"You always loved the donuts with crème filling," Lernov smiled lasciviously, his eyes darkening.
"Sergey…" she breathed as he kissed the inside of her palm, and up her bare arm.
"Ya she govoril, Malishka?" he asked as he continued a soft trail of kisses.
"I'm on duty," she said with a whisper. From across the room she heard laughing and groaning as people clustered around a table, and were all intently watching something very interesting.
"Did that ever stop us before?" he winked. "Even at the academy?"
"Why DID you go into the Marines? You would have been great in New Scotland Yard."
"I have the urge to travel," he shrugged, a hurt look in his eyes. "Chasing through the streets when I could be on the frontier... out here... where a real man can scrape a living from the soil and defend his home… not in some city where everything is done for you."
"Hey, that city is no picnic," she said, annoyed.
"Malishka, it is no comparison," he laughed.
"Sergey, sometimes you really piss me off, zed…" she sighed.
"You love it when I bother you, as I recall," he grinned. Lestrade sighed and glanced anxiously around as if she was afraid of who might see them.
"What's all the excitement about?" she asked as she saw the group clustered around the table.
"Pay it no mind. I would very much like to show you my place," he said, in sudden irritation that he was being ignored.
"No wait, my partner, I forgot all about him… zed!" she groaned.
"Your partner?" Sergey laughed momentarily, his eyes sparkling. "Her I would like to meet."
"It's a he, and he's lost without me," Beth teased as she got up. Sergey put his arm around her waist possessively as she quickly walked over and saw a sight that made her want to laugh.
Sherlock Holmes had unbuttoned his top button, rolled up his sleeves, and was loosening his tie. Across from him sat the Corporal, and there were very few pieces on the chessboard. The space marines were all putting down credits and whispering as Holmes gave a sly smile and sipped a glass of tonic and bourbon across from the Corporal. Smoke curled up from the table, and others were actually smoking forbidden tobacco. Lestrade curled her nose. How she'd like to arrest them!
"That's illegal!" she gasped.
"Not on Mars," said Sergey, holding her back. "We grow it as one of our novelty crops."
"Ten citations at least!" she snapped.
"Malishka you are not in authority here, nepradva li?" Sergey shook his head. Holmes glanced as the Corporal tapped her Russian cigarette on the ashtray and inhaled. He picked up the pipe to his left and inhaled a bit of the smoke, then let it curl around his head as he prepared his next move. His hand slapped the button on the digital timer.
"Your move," he smiled cannily at the Corporal.
Tanya knocked back a sip of vodka, and inhaled a drag of smoke, letting it blow in Holmes' face, as she laughed, "All right, you Brit… let's see what you can do to this… Check…"
"Simplicity itself," Holmes smiled as he moved his queen into position, and then waited. "Now it's check…"
"Clever, but not clever enough," laughed his opponent.
Everyone was changing his or her bets and Lestrade shook her head, groaning. Always Holmes was the center of attention, and he seemed to be creaming the Colonel, even though they were evenly matched. "Who is that?" asked Sergey with a look between confusion and amusement.
"My partner," she groaned in mortified embarrassment.
"Some partner," laughed Sergey.
"Ten astral credits on the detective," Chang whispered.
"She's dead to rights," laughed another.
"Checkmate," said Holmes simply. The Corporal gasped and shook her head.
"No way!" she laughed. "Damn you ARE good!"
"Wahoo, the Detective wins!" laughed Chang, and the others cheered. "Two for three."
"I guess he gets the prize," smiled the Corporal reluctantly as she tossed a slipper over the table, and Holmes grinned smugly.
"Good thing he doesn't play cards," Chang laughed.
"Damn, will you teach ME to play?" laughed someone else. "Sheeooot!"
"What are you doing?" Lestrade tapped her foot. "You KNOW tobacco's illegal!"
"We aren't on earth, Inspector," Holmes laughed. "Besides, it seems the morale has risen considerably…"
"You're encouraging GAMLBING?" Lestrade groaned. "Just what in HELL has gotten into you?"
"Simmer down Yardie!" the Corporal snapped. "He's actually a bright spot on this ball of rust."
"Beth, please do relax, you always WERE excitable," Sergey said patronizingly.
"Oh shut up," Beth mumbled.
