Disclaimer:
I do not own any of the series used in the production of this fanfiction. I would list the things that I do not own, but I would prefer to keep the number of spoilers down if at all possible. Suffice it to say that not all of the materials used will be actual full crossovers, but you will likely recognize materials and concepts from a varied grouping of science fiction sources.
Author's Note:
There will be mentions of the Ásatrú religion in this work of fiction. While I myself to not hold firm to any one single church, I was always fascinated by the Norse gods while growing up, having Viking ancestry on both sides of my family.
While I do not hold myself to be part of the Ásatrú Alliance, their religion seemed like it would fit well in the overall storyline of this series. Do not worry, this will not come across as me trying to 'convert' anyone to Ásatrú.
This chapter will be a bit long again, because it goes a bit more in depth about a few of the characters, setting motivation for the future. Since we are still in the first few chapters, and getting to know these people better, there will be several references to their pasts early on.
Also, I am aware that Air Force Officer Training School currently takes place at Maxwell AFB... in my story, they now do this training at Sheppard AFB as well.
Magnum Opus
Book One: Exodus
Chapter 3
Lunar Outlook AFB, Administration - Wednesday, Nov 5, 2025 - Mid Day
Sitting behind his large wooden desk, Colonel James Tanner was busy writing a report to his superiors regarding the current state of the base personnel, fingers busy at the keyboard.
Ever since they had discovered what reports were calling the 'Anomaly', an alien shipwreck near the south pole of the Moon, the entire base had been put on lockdown. While everyone on base had known that they were going to be rather isolated from regular physical contact with the outside world, they had become used to regular emails and voice chat, as well as care packages from their families and friends. There were only rumblings as of yet, the men and women on base would soon become restless without regular contact with the outside world.
Hearing a knock at his office door, he saved the report he had been working on, and turned his chair to face the sound. Once the face recognition software realized that he was no longer looking at the screen, it automatically locked his workstation, throwing up an official screensaver showing the still image of the United States Air Force logo.
When the door opened, a nervous Simon Riggs was revealed entering the room, his sandy hair still slightly damp from the shower despite his drive across the base to get there. According to his service records, the young man stood at five feet eight inches, but the narrow frame of his body made him seem almost taller than he actually was.
Although a little shy of the average height in this age of advanced medicine and nutritional science, it was easy to imagine that few would take liberties with him due to his stature. His uniform was filled out with lean muscles which, when combined with his regularly laid back manners, reminded the Colonel of a resting panther.
His file also mentioned the fact that he had a highly developed sense of kinesthesia, an innate awareness of the world around you, and how you fit into your surroundings at any given moment. This was a trait that could not be easily taught, and lucky few were naturally born with. When combined with his sharp eyesight, and keen attention to detail, the young man was perfect fighter pilot material.
When Tanner had assumed command of the Lunar Ghost project, and with it this base, he had been allowed some small amount of leeway when it came to choosing the officers that would be working on his staff. After reviewing the candidates at length, he had made a special point of adding both First Lieutenant Simon Riggs, as well as Second Lieutenant Elizabeth Stevenson, to his core staff for the Command Center.
One of the reasons he had chosen Riggs specifically was that at one time there had been a better than good chance that he would have ended up with the him as a rookie pilot in his wing straight out of training. He even had a chance to sit back seat in an F-15 Active as the young man put it through its paces, impressing Tanner with his instinctual control.
After that first flight, he took every chance he could get during the few days he was on base at Sheppard AFB as a guest instructor to be up in the air with him.
Sadly, they never did end up flying in combat together, as a week later General Greenwode had gone on a tour of the training facility. While observing one of the classes there he had been impressed with Riggs' skills at reading the data coming from the numerous sensors that were now standard to the more modern fighter jets.
After the class, the General had asked some rather pointed questions of the teachers there, followed up by reading the relatively thin file they had on the new recruit. By all of their reports, his skills with even some of the sub standard sensors on the older model planes was downright uncanny.
Upon seeing the test results, and listening to the reports from everyone that had worked with the young man, the General had him pulled from pilot training immediately. Within a few short days, Riggs had gone from being an up and coming hotshot pilot, to being the head of class in the sensor technician training facility instead.
Tanner saw great potential in him not only as an Officer, but also as a valuable asset to the nation. Even though he might not be a genius like Doctor Hamlin, he possessed an impressive work ethic, and an innate understanding of technology that often made the Colonel green with envy. While wars might be fought with men, bullets, and rations, proper intelligence had been the key to victory since the dawn of mankind.
With the speed of thought, he drove along memory lane and came back out the other side just as Riggs came to a stop within two steps of his desk, raising his hands in a crisp salute.
"Sir, First Lieutenant Riggs reporting."
"At ease, Lieutenant," Tanner said, returning the salute. "Take a seat."
"Yes, Sir," he replied, sitting in the straight backed chair offered to him.
Pretending not to notice the younger man wiping the palms of his hands against his uniform pants to rid them of their stress sweat, the Colonel took a moment to chose his next words carefully. Although Riggs didn't know it yet, his entire future was about to change.
"Riggs?"
"Yes, sir?"
"The next part of this conversation is going to be informal," Tanner told him. "Not a conversation between you and your Commander, or between two officers, just man to man, understand?
Nodding in agreement, Riggs wondered what in the hell was going on, and just how deep the rabbit hole was going to go. Originally assuming that this conversation was about the discovery they had made three days previously, he was now beginning to doubt that was the case.
Especially with how unusual the Colonel was acting.
"I know you didn't sign up to be a sensor tech," Tanner said after a moment of silence. "Hell, we both remember when I flew with you back at Sheppard when you were in training there. You had all the makings of a real ace in you, one of those rare natural pilots."
Riggs nodded in agreement, trying to swallow his nervousness with a suddenly dry mouth, and unconsciously ran his hands along his uniform pants again.
I can only imagine what it felt like when General Greenwode had you pulled from the class and reassigned to the Technician course," he continued, aiming a measuring gaze at the First Lieutenant. "You want to know something, Riggs?"
"What, Sir?"
"Even with as good a pilot as you were, and believe me I know talent when I see it, you make one hell of a Sensor Technician," he told him, leaking forward with his forearms on his desk. "Dammit, son, if it hadn't been for you and Stevenson, it might have taken us years to find something. With the two of you here, not only did it not take years, it just took a few months. And we both know what we found, right?"
"Yes, Sir," Riggs nodded. "I know what we found."
"I know you do," the Colonel stated, leaning back in his chair to study the young officer with calculating eyes. "Despite all that, you still want to be up in the air again, don't you."
This was more a statement of fact, than a question.
"More than anything," he responded, sitting taller in his chair. "Well, nearly anything, Sir."
"You might just get that chance," Tanner told him, picking up the official orders that had laid unnoticed on the corner of his desk. "Probably not the way you ever imagined, though."
Stretching his arm out, he placed the orders on the desk in front of the confused First Lieutenant.
With a slightly shaking hand, Riggs picked up the paper, his moss green eyes darting back and forth as he read the official document. Confusion warred with amazement on his face as he realized that what he was now holding in his hands were orders for his immediate reassignment to NASA and the 45th Space Wing, headquartered over in Florida at Kennedy Space Center. Taking a moment to look up at the Colonel in shocked amazement, he quickly turned his attention back to reading.
Once having a childhood dream of going into space, as a teenager he had resigned himself to the fact that the closest he was ever likely to get was flying at high altitude in a jet. Everything from that point onwards was planned to help him get into the pilots seat, as he graduated college at the top of his class, then took four years of classes at Berkley to improve his odds of getting into that rare elite. Since flying for the Air Force had the best chance of getting him up there as much as possible, he had signed up mere days after graduating from College.
After a decade of careful planning, his life's dream had been forcibly derailed by the unknowing actions of an Air Force General, who decided that he was too good to rick in a jet when the Military could make better use of him elsewhere. Having ultimately failed at attaining his dream, he had still made the best of what he did have, and made a few good friends along the way.
He had never expected something like this to happen after all that had happened.
What made his new orders to unbelievable was the single fact that not only was he now assigned to the NASA Headquarters, but he had been specifically assigned to the ARES II rocket as the Lunar Lander pilot. That meant that he was going to be going into space with the explicit mission of landing on the Moon as part of the Constellation I mission.
That same mission also had the secret assignment of going to, and exploring, a real life crashed alien spaceship.
Suddenly it felt somehow wrong to him for a lowly First Lieutenant, who had never even stepped foot on the grounds of Kennedy Space Center, to come swooping in to replace a man who had been on the project for years. Having kept up on the space program, he knew that Captain Philip Howell had been assigned to the position he was taking over, a man who had been to space numerous times and had been trained specifically for this mission.
For all intents and purposes, they were breaking up a proven team to put him there instead.
"This can't be right, Colonel," Riggs argued. "How do they expect me to replace a fully trained astronaut who had been to space dozens of times, especially on a mission this critical? I haven't even gone there to do any of their training, and the launch is in ten days!"
"What do you think Doctor Hamlin has been having you do in all your free time the last few days?" Tanner asked him. "How about the months leading up to now? Don't you understand that he has already been putting you through most of the exact same training that the astronauts get over at Kennedy?
"Hell, at this point you probably have more actual hands on experience you have with the equipment they will be using on this mission, you might even have a leg up on them. After all, there is no better way to learn how to use a tool, than to find out how it can be broken so that you know what not to do, in my opinion."
Even though he looked like he wanted to argue with him, Riggs sat still and heard his commanding officer out. Despite his misgivings, he did understand that he had spent a lot of time working hard over in the Simulation ever since the first day he at arrived on base. In hindsight, he should have realized that a lot of the 'Tests' that Doctor Hamlin had him go through were barely veiled training courses.
"Something else that I think you should know is that I went in and compared your scores on the Lunar Lander flight simulator," Tanner continued. "I thought you might find it interesting that not only do you blow right past the requirements of the test, you actually outscore the man you are heading off to replace.
"While Captain Howell might have more experience in a fighter jet, piloting the Lunar Lander requires a slightly different skill set. When landing on a ridge overlooking a crater three times deeper than the Grand Canton, with poor visibility, you have to rely on your sensors more than anything.
"As I said before, you were a good pilot, and you make one hell of a sensors technician, and that is exactly what they need here."
After a few brief moments of silence, Tanner contemplated telling him about what he had found out when he had looked up why they were replacing the original astronaut. Although he was not able to find any information as to why Howell had been pulled from the mission, he was able to find the seek and detain orders passed through OSI due to his high levels of clearance.
Deciding to give a bit of non-classified information to the First Lieutenant, he reached out a hand and spun his empty coffee cup around its base a few times. The calming sound of the ceramic filled the empty room before he stopped, opening his mouth to speak again.
"In all honesty, if nothing had happened to the man you're replacing, Captain Howell would still be the one flying this mission, in spite of your obvious skills," Tanner told him. "Doctor Hamlin never told you that he has been grooming you as a potential backup Lander pilot from the beginning, as part of the work he had you doing testing the equipment for the mission. You were never told anything about it, because the odds of them needing a replacement were slim.
"Hell, the Doctor didn't even tell me his plans for you until Saturday, but even then I had suspicions beforehand. I never mentioned anything to you myself because I didn't want to get your hopes up in case the chance never arose. But something has happened, and for some reason Captain Howell will not be available for this mission.
"But you are."
Shaking his head in disbelief, Riggs thought about what the Colonel had just told him. Considering that the Doctor himself believed that he had the skills needed for the mission, and had apparently been able to convince NASA of this as well, he had little room to argue with those who really should know better than he did. After all, if they all thought he had the skills needed to get them safely on the moon, and from there help with scouting the Anomaly, who was he to argue?
One thing he was certain of, though. Even if they all thought that he had the skills, he wasn't willing to go into space unless he was able to convince himself as well.
Once he got to Kennedy Space Center, he was going to work his ass off to make sure that he met the grade. This mission was too important, not only to the nation, but also to the future of Humanity, to give anything less than his absolute best.
"Sometimes things happen for a reason," Tanner continued, seeing that he was coming around. "It is often up to us mere mortals to recognize that reason when it's staring us in the face. You must know when to reach out and grab those opportunities, lest they escape your grasp forever."
"I understand, Sir," Riggs nodded, agreeing with him. "Even though this is sudden, and very unexpected, if I don't take this chance to go up there... If I don't go, I will always wonder what it would have been like if I did. I don't want to live the rest of my life thinking 'what if'."
"Good man," Tanner smiled. "There is an Osprey waiting for you over in my airfield right now, eating up my fuel supply as we speak. You had better believe that I will be mighty disappointed with you if that plane had to leave without you in it, considering that they flew all this way just to deliver that piece of paper with your name on it.
"What I want you to do is go over to Residential, pack everything important up in your bag, and report to that bird ASAP, understood?"
"Yes, sir!" Riggs replied, standing up quickly from his chair and firing off a sharp salute to his, now former, commanding officer.
"One last thing before I dismiss you, Riggs," the Colonel said, grinning at the younger officer's obvious excitement. "Have fun in space, and stay safe!"
"Will do, Sir!"
"Dis-missed!" Tanner snapped, returning the parting salute.
Riggs nearly stumbled over his own two feet as he crossed the short distance to the door, the orders still held firmly in his hand. Quickly opening the door, and taking a moment to stop and apologize to Major Trujillo for startling him with his sudden exit, he made his way out of the office. Listening to the fading thunder of the First Lieutenant's boots as rounded the corner and made his way out of the building, the still grinning Tanner shook his head in amusement.
It was amazing to think that the young man had gone from being removed from pilot training, to one of the most exclusive assignments in the world.
Lunar Outlook AFB, Mess Hall - Wednesday, Nov 5, 2025 - Mid Day
Second Lieutenant Elizabeth Stevenson shuffled her boots as the slow moving line moved another few feet, the men and women on either side of her waiting just like her to be served by the surly Mess Hall attendants.
Acoustic tiles in the ceiling tried their best to muffle the constant roar of noise that filled the heavily packed cafeteria room. Nothing short of noise dampening foam could have handled the volume of the lunch rush though, as the petite young woman stood in the middle of the press of humanity.
Straining to stretch herself taller with four foot ten and a half inch tall frame, she peered past the shoulder of the airman in line before her, trying to catch a glimpse of the culinary fate that awaited her. Flinching in irritation when she saw the serving lady place a brownish lump onto another unfortunate soul's plate, followed by a spoonful of what was supposed to be potatoes, which better resembled a salty pudding its namesake.
With a sigh of resignation, she slumped back down, flinching as the bright overhead lighting reflected off her metal meal tray into her eyes. Looking back up at the desert camouflage that covered the back of the man leading her towards her fate, she shuffled forward as the line moved again, barely bothering to lift her boots from the floor.
Soon enough her own tray was loaded down with what the kitchen staff called 'meatloaf', and she was heading on her way towards the drinks to grab something to try to wash the taste down with. It always surprised her that they managed to get the smell of meatloaf down perfectly, but somehow created a lump of foodstuff that failed all other criteria.
Looking over the drink selection, and ignoring the impatient huff of a scientist behind her as she held up the line, she finally settled for orange juice. Not only did she like the taste, but it tended to be best at washing down the greasy taste of the meal she was about to suffer through. After filling up one of the empty cups, taking a moment to secure a lid and grab a straw, she looked around the crowded cafeteria, bright green eyes searching for an empty table in the lunchtime chaos.
Eventually spotting an empty patch of table on the far side of the room near the main entrance, she carefully made her way across the room. Due to her short height and petite build, it wasn't uncommon for someone to walk right into her without even noticing that she was down there. A few of the less scrupulous men on base had tried to take advantage of this fact, but had backed off eventually when they realized that she had fully functional knees and a skill at gifting cup shots that looked convincingly accidental to any witnesses.
Being as small as she was had made Basic Officer Training particularly hostile when the other people in her Flight immediately assumed that she would hold them back during the initial physical training. Fortunately she had been going on long hikes with her father ever since she was a teenager, so she had been used to most of what they were doing anyways.
Unfortunately things had not gotten any better for her when they saw the small golden Thor's Hammer hanging around her neck and found out that she was Ásatrú, a follower of the Aesir of ancient Norse tradition. With as small of a following as it had around the world, having only just begun to regain a following, many people did not understand her beliefs, and people tended to react poorly to the unknown.
Due to her experience in those first five weeks she had taken a rather pragmatic hit first and hit hard attitude to anyone that tried to take advantage of her, and had a hard time finding friends. Fortunately, there were two major exceptions to her regular track record of friendlessness.
While she would admit to herself that Simon Riggs was by far her best friend, the two of them had ended up sort of adopting Rosa Dominguez into their small circle. Nonplussed by her own defensive posture to the world, their tall engineer friend had quickly become a regular fixture in their free time within a few days of them meeting on base.
Noticing her friend already sitting at the table that she had spotted from across the room, her dark red haired head poking up above everyone around her, Stevenson wondered how in the world she had missed seeing her there. As usual there were a couple seats empty on either side of the Amazonian woman, bringing a small grin to her own freckled face as she walked up and took the seat opposite her friend.
"Hey there, short stuff," Dominguez joked, handing over the salt and pepper shakers to her with a large, tan skinned hand.
"Hey yourself," she replied, eyeing the half empty bottle of Tabasco on her friend's tray, and the suspiciously red looking half eaten meatloaf sitting next to it. "I see you didn't want to taste your food again today. It's amazing you don't have an ulcer yet with all the Tabasco sauce you take in."
Yeah, well, that is kind of the idea, Liz," her friend said, grinning as she watched her doctor her own food. "I have the distinct impression that it might have been better if I could have avoided eating it at all, but unlike you I can't go around skipping meals and eating like a bird. It takes a lot of fuel to keep this furnace running."
Patting herself on her washboard abs, the Hispanic woman went back to her meal, spearing a piece of the meatloaf and using it to scoop up a mouthful of mashed potato to go with it. Stevenson knew the she wasn't entirely joking about needing more to eat, as she could only imagine having to keep a body like that fed.
Towering over her own height by nineteen and a half inches, the much shorter airman wondered how her friend was able to walk through a door without ducking, let alone how she was able to do all that delicate engineering work with hands so large. If anything though, she had noticed that the other woman had a strange grace to her as she moved through the world, taking care not to run into or break something.
There was a good reason for the empty seats currently surrounding them though, as recently there had been an incident where one of the enlisted men on base had managed to get his hands on some alcohol and made a drunken advance on her. Rage had filled her as he made allusions to red haired women only being good for one thing, and only the longer reach of her fellow red-haired friend allowed her to grab a hold of the man first.
Apologizing for his actions once he had a chance to sober up, the man had not pressed any charges on Dominguez for the thrashing she had given him, later doing his best to avoid the both of them. Since rumors did not take long to spread in the limited community, everyone had known about what had happened the night before by the time they had been called out to muster.
Command Chief Master Sergeant Werner Koertig had given a long lecture outside beneath the hot sun to all of the enlisted men and women about the regulations against alcohol consumption on base, never mentioning any names. Of course, everyone could see the bruised face of the recently beaten man standing front and center.
Enjoying the elbow room for the time being, a relative silence settled around them as they dug into their meals. After the first few, admittedly small bites, she decided that just the right amount of pepper had been added, and grabbed the salt shaker again to finish the mercy killing of her taste buds.
After a short wait, two more people finally joined their part of the table, setting their trays down to the right of her engineer friend. Both of them were wearing dusty BDUs that sported a few non-regulation stains, and she quickly recognized them as two of the aircraft mechanics who were usually stuck with duty posts over at the airfield refueling the planes. With the base on lockdown the last few days, they probably hadn't had much to do over there, and they seemed to be in rather high spirits for having spent hours outside in the desert.
"I keep telling you, something screwy is going on," the first man told his friend before taking a large drink of water.
"Look, just because a plane landed outside of schedule, when no planes are supposed to land for another two days, doesn't mean it's a conspiracy," the second man shot back.
"You're ignoring the fact that the planes that they send here are always C-130 Hercules," the first man said with a smug look on his face, having scored a point. "This plane is an Osprey, which they never use for cargo here as it's too small to be worth it. Not only that, but they only let us close enough to hook up the fuel lines, then just sat there with the motors running."
"Okay, yeah, fine," the second man conceded. "You have a point there. Not to mention the two armed guards standing with the ramp down at the back. Hell, the pilots didn't even leave for a piss break, and they had been out there for at least an hour before we left for lunch."
"You'll notice that they did let someone get closer than us, though," the first man added. "Didn't you see Major Trujillo show up after they landed, then go running off like a fire was lit under him?"
"After being handed an envelope by one of the guards, yeah," the second man nodded.
Having both come to an agreement, the conversation between the two mechanics drifted off to other subjects as they tried to keep their jaws moving with something other than their supposed meatloaf. Still, there was something about what they had just overheard that stuck sideways in the women's heads, as no planes should have landed at all due to the lockdown.
Frowning in concentration, Dominguez contemplated what they had just learned.
During her time on base she had come to understand that whenever anything out of the ordinary occurred, things usually escalated quickly from there. With the discovery a few days ago, followed by the lockdown of the base, things were already highly unstable. Adding on the mystery surrounding the plane over in the airfield and the unknown message it had carried onto the base, she would just have to brace herself for what was going to befall them next.
A sudden thought occurred, and she looked up from her almost empty tray and locked her gray-green eyes on her friend.
"I wonder if that plane has anything to do with Riggs being ordered to report to the Base Commander?" she wondered aloud, causing her short friend to look up from her own meal with a confused look on her freckled face.
"What was that?" Stevenson asked.
"That's why he isn't here eating with us right now," Dominguez told her. "Doctor Hamlin apparently passed the order for him to report to the Colonel immediately just as we were finishing up the morning tests. I only found out about it when I asked to hitch a ride with him to get here. At least he was gentleman enough to drop me off on his way over to Admin."
Busy taking a drink of her orange juice to remove the greasy sensation from her tongue, Stevenson almost choked when she heard her friend's words. Looking as if she had just been struck by lightning, green eyes wide in sudden realization, she put her cup back on her tray and quickly stood up from her seat.
"Bollocks," the petite airman cursed, eyes darting over to the nearby exit. "I've got to go."
"Sure thing," Dominguez nodded, smirking at the Britishism that had slipped from her friend. "Want me to keep your food safe while you're gone, or can I eat it instead?"
"Help yourself," she replied. "Can you put my tray away when you leave?"
"Will do."
"Thanks, see you later!"
Moments after rushing out of the Mess Hall, Stevenson flinched in sudden pain as the noontime light of the desert sun did its best to blind her. Blinking her eyes to help them adjust, she began hunting for an electric cart near the outside of the mess of parked vehicles, trying to find one that wasn't blocked in. By the time she spotted a likely candidate, her eyes had already adjusted, and she spent a few moments thinking about getting a pair of sunglasses like Riggs had.
Jogging over to the unattended vehicle, she quickly sat down in the driver's seat, thumb jamming the ignition button more on instinct than conscious thought. Once the engine started with a muted hum, she threw the cart in reverse and backed it in a tight turn to point its nose towards the road that headed off towards Residential. Her meal was all but forgotten as she drove along the dusty road, nothing more than a vague memory and a slightly queasy feeling deep in her stomach that matched the worry buried there with it.
Ever since last night, she had been feeling as if something was going to happen today, and now she was sure that her friend was stuck in the middle of it all. If there was one thing that she had learned best from the Gyðja (priestess) that headed the Ásatrú Kindred where she grew up in England, it was to pay attention to her instincts.
She had to swerve her cart to the side, knobby tires digging into the hard packed ground on the shoulder of the road for a brief moment as a reckless driver passed her going the opposite direction, intent on their own destination. She swore an oath under her breath, then hoped that she would get there in time to catch Riggs before he left.
If she was right, then the plane sitting over in the airfield was waiting to take him away from this place, and away from her. There was no way in Freyja's name she was going to let him get away that easy, as she had a few things that she needed to tell her stubborn friend before he had a chance to leave her behind.
Suddenly the tall concrete mass of the Residential Building was looming before her, dominating it's patch of dry desert floor. Looking like a six sided star when viewed from the air, the straight lines of its architecture seemed harsh beneath the bright sun overhead.
Built to hold both the Enlisted and Officers assigned to the Lunar Outlook Air Force Base, the two story building was even larger than the Administration Building off to the Southwest of it. Looking at both buildings it was obvious that the same architect drew up the plans for both, the tall narrow windows reminding one of the arrow slits on an old castle, and reinforcing the fort-like appearance of both facilities.
Due to the fact that the building was arranged with all of the men living on the first floor, while the women had their rooms up on the second, the Residential building was jokingly called Hotel Sixty-Nine by most of the men on base. Come to think of it, several of the woman also called it that. Nobody ever called it that in official reports, of course, but when you gather a large group of people, most of them in their twenties, and have them live together in an isolated location like this...
Since most of the staff were either still on duty or off eating lunch, the parking area in front of the building was almost empty, allowing her to grab a spot almost right on top of the main entrance. Pulling up to a quick stop, she pulled the emergency break lever in instinct before hitting the kill switch for the engine, and got out of the electric cart.
Startled by the sound of flapping wings and the click of claws on thin metal, her bright green eyes darted over to see a black feathered shape now standing on the roof of the vehicle she had just gotten out of. Familiar with the mated pair of ravens on base, she noticed the lack of markings on the bird's shoulders, and remembered that this was the female one she had called Muninn.
Their eyes met across the short distance for a brief moment, the intelligence behind the Raven's eyes causing a tingle to pass over her body as the ancient Norse blood of her ancestors sang in the presence of their favored symbol. Seeming to nod its beak at her, the Raven looked off towards the nearby building, the blue black feathers on her head and throat standing up for a moment as she gave a deep throaty call.
Overhead another dark feathered form flew past, wings spread wide to catch the thermals above the base, as Huginn made his way off to the Southwest. With a burst of sound and another throaty call, Muninn joined him in the air as they flew together to their nest on top of the Administration Building, the sound of their voices echoing in the wind.
Taking this as a sign that the raven-god Odin was watching over her, she made her way into the building. A few latecomers brushed past her as she walked into the main entrance and out of the harsh sun, one of them already absconding with the cart she had just parked there.
Taking up both stories on the front of the building, the entrance hall held a flight of stairs leading upwards, as well as a set of double doors that opened up into a wide hallway that branched out to the numerous rooms that the men all lived in. With the echoing sound of her combat boots tapping against the waxed linoleum floors, she passed by the wide set of stairs that would have led her to the upper landing of the large entrance hall, and on the way to her own room, and instead walked through those heavy doors.
Since it was currently between the hours of oh ten hundred and eighteen hundred, there were no rules prohibiting women from entering the man's hallway, so long as they left the door wide open on any room that they walked into. She herself had never had the chance to test that rule, as the much more important Uniform Code of Conduct prevented her from having the one man on base she would like to be alone with in a closed room.
Taking the first branch to the right off of the main hallway, she spotted the open door to Riggs' room nearby, the sound of frantic packing easy to hear in the otherwise quiet building. At once both relieved that she had managed to get there in time, and grateful that her instincts had again led her right, she made her way towards his open door.
A sudden case of nerves cropped up again as the nagging voice of doubt made her wonder if he was packing because he was in trouble, and was being carted off. Silencing that though, she reminded herself that if he was in that sort of trouble, there would be two armed MPs outside his door. She had seen it happen before, but it was obviously not the case here, since she was alone in the hall.
Right before she reached his open door, the sounds of frantic packing subsided, leaving an odd silence in its place. Taking the final few steps she finally caught sight of her friend and superior officer, noticing him standing still in the middle of his hastily packed room.
His desert camo tank bag lay open on his bed, full to almost bursting with as much of his belongings as he could possibly fit in the combination duffel backpack. She had barely caught him in time before he had finished packing, as he only had one thing left to put into his bag.
Held in his hands was a durable metal picture frame containing a photograph showing two slightly younger versions of the two of them standing before the mass of a Chinook helicopter. One of the girls she had gone to Officer Training with had taken the picture to commemorate her first mission and emailed it to her later. In the picture they were both smiling, hands raised to put bunny ears behind each other's heads.
The picture had been taken a couple of years earlier, well before they had both been assigned to the Lunar Ghost project, and she had a matching copy of it up in her room sitting on her desk. When it was taken they had both been First Lieutenants assigned to different units, and only sheer chance, or the work of the Norns, had brought them into each other's company that day.
Both of them had been called in as the best sensors technicians that were available in the region for a joint mission to repair one of the missile defense platforms stationed near enemy lines. When that platform had malfunctioned, it opened a potential hole in their defenses that would allow the enemy to hammer their forward bases if left unchecked.
While it had been Stevenson's first field assignment, Riggs himself had been on several missions like it before, and his calm presence helped ease her nerves the moment they had met. She could still remember how nervous she felt that day, having gone directly from Oxford University in England to the United States Air Force, and graduating at the top of her class less than a month earlier.
Having dual citizenship both in the United Kingdom and the United States, she could have just as easily joined the ranks of the RAF. However, after losing her father while she was still in University, she had made the decision that she wanted to go somewhere new. It had been a difficult time for her, as her father had ended up raising her on his own after her American born mother had died while in deployment herself.
While talking to each other during the long trip from the forward base to the missile defense platform that needed repair, they had realized that they had both graduated from the same training facility of Sheppard AFB in Northern Texas. This was unusual, as most of the people trained in the Air Force to be Officers went through training at the official Officer Training School over at Maxwell AFB outside Colorado Springs, Colorado. While she had joined up to be a sensor technician, she gave him a sympathetic ear as he tried to shrug off the fact that he had originally joined up to become a fighter pilot.
Smoothly switching the conversation over to stories about his previous missions, he had helped ease her worry by describing all of the small irritating things that could go wrong, distracting her from the danger that they were in. Since all of the real fighting was happening miles away, there was only a slim chance that they would fall under attack themselves.
Unfortunately, a slim chance was all that was needed.
A single missile had managed to penetrate the defense grid, slipping through the hole left due to the faulty platform that they had been sent out to repair. Locking onto their helicopter's heat signature, the missile changed course and headed directly for them as it crossed no man's land.
Noticing the approaching danger, the pilot dropped a decoy flare and swerved the heavy Chinook helicopter out of the path of the oncoming missile as best he could. Only their quick reaction time, honed by the constant threat of attack in the region, had allowed them to avoid a direct hit that would have taken all of their lives.
Even though they avoided the full wrath of the missile, the concussive blast threw the helicopter out of control for several long moments as the edge of the explosion caught up with them. Broken pieces of hot metal from the expanding blast were peppering the body of the aircraft, when one of the frantic twists had turned the armored belly away from the explosion, exposing the two people in the back through the still open side doors.
Half turning to cover her body with his larger frame while they were tossed around, Riggs ended up saving her life when a piece of shrapnel found its way to them. From the angle it flew in, it would have come in from the less protected side of the bulletproof vest they had her put on, instead it hit the heavier material on the back of his own vest. While the jagged piece of metal barely managed to miss severing his spine or any major arteries as it pierced through the heavy bullet proof material, it had managed to do irreparable damage to his liver as it spent the last of its kinetic energy.
Once the crew had managed to bring the helicopter back under control, the co-pilot went into the back to check up on them. Seeing her frantically pressing her now blood covered hands against the lower back of her fellow First Lieutenant, being careful not to move the metal still embedded there, the crew made an immediate call to the nearest medical facility.
During the endless seeming flight back to base, she had frantically given prayer to every single Aesir and Vanir that she could remember, begging them to save the life of her new friend. Even now, her hand went to the Thor's Hammer that hung around her neck whenever she remembered that moment.
Thankfully they had reached the base in time to keep him from bleeding out, the medical staff already on standby with a stretcher to carry him from the damaged Chinook helicopter. As she had already been keeping pressure on the wound, they had her keep her hands in place until they reached the hospital they had landed next to, with a nurse taking over once they got him onto an actual gurney.
His liver had been a lost cause, too heavily damaged from the shrapnel that had pierced it to be repaired, and had to be removed immediately to prevent further damage to him. After hooking him up to a blood filtering machine to keep his blood toxicity down, they began work on getting him a replacement organ.
Knowing that finding a matching liver in the war torn region should be next to impossible, she had continued her prayers out in the waiting room, thinking that he would still be a lost cause. When an orderly in the hospital saw her there in the corner, staring at her own blood covered hands, they had gone over and gently led her off to the bathroom to clean off her hands and get changed out of her now bloody uniform.
Scrubbing her hands under the almost scalding water until they were raw, face wet with tears, her mind kept repeating the explosion over and over again. Guilt filled her at the thought that it was her fault that he had been hurt protecting her, and that it should be her lying there in the operation room dying, not him.
Seeing what she was going through, the orderly began to gently explain to her exactly how they were going to save her savior, doing their best to calm her down and reassure her that everything was going to turn out well in the end. When she eventually noticed that the orderly was talking, she turned her attention to what they were saying, and her mind soon locked upon their words.
An amazing new breakthrough in medical science had given an answer to the often fatal lack of donor organs.
Recently discovered was a chemical solution that could be used to wash an existing organ of the actual cellular matter, leaving behind the ghostlike transparent protein structure that gave it form. The orderly explained the process as being similar to renovating a house by knocking out all the walls but leaving the framing and pluming intact.
Taking one of these previously prepared 'blank' livers out of cold storage, they would then seed it with healthy cells from Riggs' own body. They would then place the new organ in a specially designed chamber that mimicked the conditions inside the human body, and hook it up to a nutrient drip solution. Within a week they would have a new liver fully regrown with his own cells, and be ready to transplant the healthy new organ into his body.
What made this procedure so groundbreakingly amazing was that, since the only actual cellular matter in the organ had been sampled from his own body, the organ was technically his own. As the potential of organ failure or rejection from a transplant mostly stemmed from either a blood type mismatch, or the body noticing the foreign DNA in the replacement, this new process was a miracle of modern medical science.
Testing for this procedure had been going on for decades before they were able to perfect the process of creating new from old in this manner. Other programs that tried creating 3d printed organs had eventually been set aside as impractical, as certain organs could now be taken even from livestock animals, due to the actual protein structure and physical dimensions of their organs were enough of a match.
Since the military had the necessary funding, and a high risk of organ damage due to the dangers of combat, there had been ample reason for the base hospital to have everything needed right on hand.
Once the orderly had finished explaining exactly how they were going to save the life of her new friend, the hospital staff allowed her to visit the injured airman as he lay in a hospital bed, looking paler than before and hooked up to a blood filtering machine. When she entered she had experienced the next big shock of the day, as he had somehow managed to convince the hospital staff to bring in a laptop with video conferencing on it, through which he was talking a pair of enlisted technicians through the repairs needed to bring the missile defenses back up and running again.
It amazed her that, despite having just survived a potentially fatal injury and woken up just a short time ago from the surgery that had removed his damaged organ, his sense of duty was so strong that he refused to let his task go incomplete. Seeing now the strength behind the man that she had been joking with earlier that day, she had been amazed by his depth of character.
She had been able to stay in the hospital to keep him company for a short time afterwards, having been given leave from active duty for several days due to her near death experience. While chatting with him as he lay there in bed awaiting his new liver, she had discovered that they had a lot in common despite their different upbringings.
By the time he had been released from the hospital with a clean bill of health, they had begun flirting with the idea of going out with each other to see if they might work out as a couple. After going back to their own separate units they had managed to stay in touch via shared emails and the occasional video call, and had begun to plan how they would meet up the next time they got sent back Stateside on furlough.
All of their well laid plans had come to a grinding halt, and they had been forced to shelve their growing feelings when they had both been assigned to the Lunar Ghost program. By that point he had been promoted to the rank of First Lieutenant, gaining silver to his rank bar to go along with his purple heart.
As he now not only outranked her, but was also directly above her in the chain of command, the Uniform Code of Conduct now forbid any kind of relationship more serious than being friends. There was little chance that their professionalism would allow them to risk either of their military careers despite their personal feelings.
Snapping herself out of memory lane, the petite redhead looked down to notice a piece of paper lying unattended next to his door, face up on the corner of his desk. Curiosity winning out, she read the papers upside down, eyes slowly widening as she found out about his immediate reassignment to the 45th Space Wing.
Reading further along, she found out that not only was he being moved to the NASA headquarters, he was also being assigned as the new Lunar Lander pilot of the ARES II rocket. Quickly making the connection, she realized that meant that he was going to be one of the first men to land on the Moon since the last mission in December of 1972.
A squeak escaped her, causing her to slap her hands over her mouth and look up at Riggs, their eyes meeting from across the room. Her heart skipped a beat as a brilliant grin grew on his face upon seeing her there, before fading away as he looked from her and down to his orders, then over to his mostly packed bag. Reaching down, he gently placed the picture, frame and all, between several pairs of BDU pants for padding, finally zipping his tank bag closed.
"I'm sorry I haven't spent much time with you the last few days, Liz," he told her. "They've just had me so busy working over with Doctor Hamlin ever since Sunday, and encouraging me to work in the Lander simulator. I must not have said more than a dozen words to you outside of work, and now they got me hopping on a plane and leaving you behind like this..."
"Don't apologize," she told him, picking up his orders and walking across the room to join him. "I'm just glad that I caught up with you before they carted you off. Besides, it's about time they did something more with your skills and you know it. Hell, with all the time they had you 'testing equipment' didn't you suspect something?"
"Well, it's still kind of a surprise," he confessed.
"There you have it, then," she said, smirking. "Reassigned to the good old 45th, rocketing up into space in the ARES II, and going where no man has gone before. Quite a move up from the Second Lieutenant that saved my life all those years ago, right?"
"What do you mean where no man has gone before," he responded, a frown on his face. "We've landed on the moon several times in the past."
"Yeah, but none of them ever explored an alien shipwreck while up there, have they," she noted, tapping the orders against his chest. "But you know what? I'm more than a little jealous of you right now. Ever since I was a little girl I always wanted to go into space. Yet here I am, and the closest I ever got is being in the Command Center watching over the Ghosts, viewing the heavens by proxy."
Having shared his own similar childhood dreams when he had been in the hospital, he had known that she had wanted to be able to go out there into space. Both of them had resigned themselves with the fact that they were never going to have the chance.
"But, you know what else?" she continued, breaking out into a beautiful grin. "I've been due for a promotion for a while, and with you out of the way I might just get that silver bar! Besides, with you reassigned to the 45th Space Wing over at Kennedy, we won't be in the same chain of command any longer."
Realization dawned on his face as he caught the meaning of that last statement, his eyes gaining a sparkle that they hadn't truly held ever since being assigned to the 101st at Lunar Outlook Air Force Base.
"I think they would be damned fools not to promote you," he told her. "By the way, I find myself in need of a pen pal while I'm off in space, can you think of anyone that might like to write to me on occasion?"
"I think someone could be found," she replied, loving the way his eyes seemed to glow when he was happy. "Maybe Dominguez would like to write to you, who knows?"
"Hey, now!" he said, mock scowling at her.
"Kidding, kidding," she said over her sudden laughter. "And don't worry, I'll keep an eye on things over in the Command Center. After all, without someone to watch your back, you never know what might happen!"
"Ouch, don't remind me," he winced, pressing a hand against the hidden scars on his lower back. "Will you ever forgive me for leaving you in charge of that madhouse?"
"If you're good, and bring me back some alien tech to drool over, I might find it in my heart to forgive you," she confessed. "Some day."
Shaking his head at his friend's antics, he accepted the orders from her hand and folded them up, placing them into the left breast pocket next to his aviator sunglasses. Grabbing the hefty tank bag from his bed, he lifted it over his right shoulder and grabbed the other strap in his left hand. Pulling the combination backpack duffel bag securely onto his back, and settling the straps to make sure that the bag was settled correctly, he did a quick check around his room.
Assured that he wasn't leaving anything behind except the woman who someday might be more than just a very good friend, he mentally prepared himself for their parting.
Having a sudden thought, she ran her fingers beneath the collar of her uniform, and found the thick gold chain that hung there with her dog tags. Fiddling with the jewelers clasp at the back of her neck, she finally got it undone, allowing her to pull the ends forward. Slowly, the long gold chain drew itself from the top of her jacket, revealing the heavy Thor's Hammer that hung from the bottom.
"This pendant belonged to my father, and my father's father, and my father's father's father," she told him, holding it up between them. "It would mean a lot to me if you were to wear this during your voyage, may it bring you protection, strength, and fortune."
"I don't feel right, taking something from you that belonged to your father," Riggs confessed to her. "I know how much that necklace means to you."
"Then you know you will have to make sure that you keep it safe," she told him, piercing him with her bright green eyes. "And keep yourself a safe as well, knowing what I will do to you in Valhalla should you lose your life up there."
"Are you so sure I will go to Valhalla?" he asked her, quirking an eyebrow. "After all, that is where warriors go when they die in battle."
"Ha!" she exclaimed, quirking her own eyebrow in response. "I saw you lose your liver, and nearly your life, to a missile in the skies over the Middle East. I do not believe that you will go quietly, you will be fighting against your Fate until your very last breath. Besides, if you look far enough back into your bloodline, you will see Norsemen staring back at you with fire in their eyes."
"Well, how can I refuse, with such a glowing appraisal?" he said, accepting the gift.
Having to lean forward and bend his head down to give the short woman access to his neck, he resisted laughing as her fingers tickled as she worked on closing the clasp again. Once she was done, she reached down to the Thor's Hammer itself, and tucked it into the front of his shirt where gravity had pulled it away from his chest.
Standing up now that she had finished, he noted in the back of his head how warm it felt beneath his shirt, heated up by the warmth of her own body. Moments later he realized exactly where the necklace had just been nestled to get that warm, and he had to fight to keep from blushing at the visual.
Now that she was done giving him her necklace, Stevenson went back to the open door and poked her head out into the hallway, checking both directions to make sure that nobody was nearby. Assured that they were as alone as they could possibly be on base, and knowing this would be the last time that she saw him face to face for Odin knows how long, she braced herself for what she was about to do next.
A startled look passed over his face once she stepped back across the room, and he realized how close she was suddenly standing to him. Moments later, her hands lashed out to grab the collar of his BDU jacket, pulling his head down to her height with a strength disproportional to her petite frame.
As kisses go, it was not one that lent itself to flowery lines of poetry, nor was it the sort of kiss that you would find in a steamy romance novel. In fact, with this being their first kiss, it was rather awkward all things considered. Their noses bumped together before they tilted their heads to compensate, and he stood there like a wooden statue, half frozen in shock.
By the time his brain had caught up with itself and he began to enjoy the kiss, their lips parted as she released her hold on his jacket. Taking a step backwards, she stood straight and snapped off a picture perfect salute to the man she had just barely avoided breaking regs with, since he was now officially assigned to a separate Wing by the papers in his pocket.
Her heart was beating a mile a minute in her chest as she looked on at the shocked amazement on her handsome friend's face. She almost couldn't believe it herself that she had just up and kissed him like that, but she had been fighting the urge over the past several months while working in close quarters with him. Perhaps it was the excitement of the moment, or the thought that something might happen and she could never see him again, but whatever the reason that drove her to their first kiss, she didn't regret the slightly bruised feel she now sported on her lips.
Holding her sharp salute, she watched as his brain rebooted itself from the sudden kiss, enjoying the emotions that flittered half formed across his face. After a long moment, his mind snapped back to the present moment, and he snapped his hand up in a salute of his own. Grinning at each other, they sheepishly lowered their hands, the moment passing.
"You had better get going," she pointed out. "After all, it would be a damned shame if they flew off without you... Sir."
"Yes, Ma'am!" he replied.
Shaking her head in amusement as he dodged past her, uniform boots thundering down the hallway as he went, she fought against the dull ache that filled her chest. She would miss him, by the Aesir would she miss him, but their futures looked brighter now than they had been before he got those orders. Maybe, if the Norns were feeling generous, they would get to find out of there was a future for them together.
Either way, things were about to get interesting
Washington DC, White House - Wednesday, Nov 5, 2025 - Evening
On the East Coast the Sun was nearing the horizon, signaling the end of another long day for President Steele.
He had received an urgent call from Rafe Holmes, the Director of National Intelligence, requesting a private meeting as soon as possible. Arranging for the meeting to happen in the currently unoccupied Situation Room beneath the West Wing of the White House had been relatively easy, though scheduling to take the time out of his rather busy day had caused no small amount of stress to his staff.
Two Secret Service Agents stood guard on either side of the single door to the room, neither of them reacting until the president got to within ten feet of them. One of the agents whispered a quiet command into his radio, while the other nodded to the president to indicate that the room was safe, and opened the door.
Slightly renovated during his stay in office, the walls were now lined with crisp lcd monitors from waist height to the edge of the low ceiling. During official meetings the screens usually displayed video feeds from other heads of state, or other pertinent images as needed. Currently the screens were all off, casting a half shadow on the room and making it seem smaller than it actually was.
Sitting to one side of the heavy wooden table was Holmes, dressed this evening in a dark brown three piece suit in the height of Victorian era style, looking oddly out of place in the middle of his otherwise modern surroundings. Upon the polished surface of the table sat two pitchers of ice water, the glass closest to him a little over half full sitting on an official White House cup coaster.
With a nod, Lazlo left the two Agents guarding the hallway, and shut the door behind him. With a pneumatic hiss, the door sealed itself, the special construction guaranteeing that even if someone was right outside the door they could not overhear what was going on inside.
Walking across the rich blue carpets, the President reached his own designated chair, pausing as Holmes rose to shake his hand. Sitting his muscular frame down with a barely audible sigh, he settled in for what he hoped to be a short meeting. He had been on his feet, or in other meetings, the entire day. By this point his feet were killing him, despite the gel inserts in his very expensive shoes.
"I assume this is important enough to interrupt my planned meeting with the Ambassador of Angola?" he asked.
"Very much so," the Director assured him, "as it has to do with the discovery made last Sunday, and matters of national security."
This made the President sit up straight in his chair, all thoughts about the Angolan Ambassador fleeing to the back of his mind as he focused on the other man's words.
"Go on," he commanded.
"Over the past several months I have noticed a pattern," Holmes continued. "Certain manufacturers were altering prices ahead of future orders we were planning on making, causing a small inflation on operational costs to our Space Program. While a negligible increase in so far as overall spending is concerned, this is only part of a larger problem, as I have recently discovered.
"In the past few months, there has been information leaked to the numerous media outlets far ahead of schedule. Small details at first, mostly harmless little tidbits of information obviously sold to the highest bidder for a tidy profit, but still the kind of information we planned to release on our own a short while later. It all seemed rather innocent at first, and nothing that would require the full attention of the Intelligence Community.
"However, by following the pattern of who would have access to this information, I managed to narrow it down to a very small list of suspects. Due to the sensitivity of the information that has been leaked, all of the signs pointed directly to the NASA Headquarters. More specifically, a very small group of individuals there who could possibly have access.
"After narrowing it down, and studying the evidence, I have discovered who our Mole was. The only person with access to all of the information, and the personal experience to be able to give this information away in a manner that would make any sense to someone looking for it, is Captain Philip Howell."
A chill sent down the President's spine as he realized that the traitorous man they were talking about was scheduled to go on a mission to study an alien shipwreck in less than two weeks.
They had managed to keep a lid on this discovery for the past three days, even going so far as to put the Lunar Outlook base on lockdown to ensure nothing leaked from that direction. If Howell had managed to give information about this discovery to their enemies...
Reaching a shaking hand out to pour himself a glass of water, Lazlo wished that he had something stronger to drink. Unfortunately for his nerves, he had quit drinking alcohol after Sharon had been cured of her cancer, as a gift to the love of his life.
"Please tell me he hasn't leaked anything about the Anomaly," he asked.
"We are in luck there," Holmes assured him. "Briefing on the secondary objective of the Constellation I mission is actually scheduled for tomorrow."
"Thank god," the President muttered.
"I had Director Kemon, the head of Air Force OSI, send a few of her men to detain him yesterday evening," the man continued. "At this point in time our greatest concern is discovering who he had been reporting to, how they originally managed to compromise him, and what all he has managed to tell them so far."
"Have we gotten any information from him yet?" Lazlo asked.
"He is on a plane headed to Guantanamo Bay as we speak," Holmes replied. "We will conduct our interviews there, where we can more easily guard against any interference from his unknown benefactors."
"Good," Lazlo nodded. "I want to find out whoever they are, and hammer them with everything we got. If information had gotten out about the crashed alien ship, then there would be a California Gold Rush by every launch capable nation on the planet to get there first, and then there would be no way we would be able to keep it away from public eye long enough to discover anything."
Taking a moment to drink some of his water, he thought of the disaster that they had just narrowly avoided, as a more comfortable silence filled the room. Reassured that the mission was still secure, he spared a moment to wonder how in the hell Holmes had been able to piece all of this information together. Thinking about the upcoming mission brought a rather uncomfortable thought to his head moments later.
"Wait, if Howell was the pilot of the Lunar Lander, and he's on his way to Gitmo for being a traitor," the President said, thick brows crashing down over his gray eyes, "who in the hell are we going to get to pilot the mission? It took them months to get that man trained up to land the damned thing, and we really don't have months to spare."
"Luckily, Doctor Hamlin over at Lunar Outlook Air Force Base has solved that problem ahead of time," Holmes assured him. "Ever since taking over the scientific side of the Lunar Ghost project, he has been carefully nurturing the skills of a young First Lieutenant on base. I have read his service jacket, as well as the test results that Doctor Hamlin has forwarded to me. While he might not have been in the Service for as long as Howell, he actually scores higher in the aptitude tests pertaining to what is required for the Constellation missions."
"I see," Lazlo nodded, glad to hear this news. "And does the young First Lieutenant have a name?"
Lunar Outlook AFB, Airfield - Wednesday, Nov 5, 2025 - Mid Day
First Lieutenant Simon Riggs, formerly of the 101st Space Wing, was having quite possibly the best day of his entire life.
First he had been given orders for reassignment to the 45th Space Wing over at NASA Headquarters. Not only that, but the orders were specifically for him to be assigned to the ARES II rocket, meaning that he was going to be going not only into space, but also to the Moon.
Secondly, since he was going to the Moon, that meant that he was going to get to live out another one of his childhood dreams, and explore an alien ship! Okay, a questionably old, half destroyed alien shipwreck, but it still counts.
Third, since he was no longer in the direct chain of command over his close friend Elizabeth Stevenson, the Uniform Code of Conduct would no longer prevent them from seeing if a closer relationship would work out.
He could admit to himself that he had fallen for the quirky little redhead the moment they had met before that fateful mission. During his recovery, the connection between the two of them had grown in a way that he could have never expected, and it had hurt when they had finally met face to face again, only to have him directly above her in the Chain of Command.
Finally, the kiss they had shared kept replaying in his head during his entire trip across the base. His only regret was that he had been so shocked when she grabbed him and pulled him down like that he hadn't really responded till near the end. It was nothing like what he imagined, him taking her in his arms, leaning over her with her body cradled in his arms as he swooped in for the kiss of the century.
Of course, since it was the first time that he had ever kissed her, he would always remember it as being the best kiss of his entire life. At least, he hoped, until he got a chance to kiss her again.
Thinking of where her still warm Thor's Hammer necklace rested, and the memory of her lips on his, he almost didn't realize at he pulled up to the landing field in his electric cart.
Quickly stopping the cart before it drove onto the tarmac, he hit the engine kill switch and reached over for his bag. Hefting the heavy tank bag onto his back, being careful not to crush the orders poking out of his breast pocket, he got out of the cart and headed towards the waiting plane.
A nearby group of aircraft mechanics were doing a poor job of acting natural, gathered together on the edge of the field talking with each other, while it was obvious that they were all watching the Osprey idling nearby. One of the mechanics nudged the man next to her with an elbow, lifting her chin in Riggs' direction as he walked out onto landing field. Several pairs of eyes followed him as he walked towards the plane, making him roll his own eyes behind the mirrored lenses of his aviator sunglasses.
He just knew that the base was going to explode with gossip as soon as they saw him get on the plane.
Making sure that both straps were secure on his shoulders, he made his way across the hot tarmac. His sharp eyes spotted two armed airmen at the back of the tilt rotor plane, deadly black assault rifles held at port arms as they stood guard. As he made his way towards the plane, the closest of the two men snapped his attention in his direction, the other man keeping his head on a swivel in case anyone else decided to approach.
Once he was within a short distance of the plane, the first airman walked towards him, the tag on the man's tactical vest showing that his name was Austin, the patch on his shoulder showing his Staff Sergeant rank.
"Sir, I am going to have to ask you to step away from the plane," Staff Sergeant Austin advised.
"I have orders to report to this plane, Staff Sergeant," Riggs responded, uncomfortable under the steely gaze coming from the second guard still standing by the ramp.
"I'm going to need to see those orders then, Sir," Austin responded.
Reaching a hand up, Riggs grabbed the folded paper sticking out of his breast pocket, and handed it towards the Staff Sergeant. Taking the paper from his hand, the other man unfolded it beneath the wind of the idling plane with both hands, keeping a firm grip so that it did not fly away. While he did this, the second airman stood guard, assault rifle still held ready across his chest.
After a few moments of intense study, Austin reached one hand down to his tactical vest, bringing out a small tablet pc no larger than his hand. Holding its high definition camera up to the barcode on the orders, he confirmed receipt. Asking Riggs to remove his sunglasses, the Staff Sergeant then aimed the device towards the First Lieutenant's face as he squinted in the harsh desert sunlight.
Using the same proprietary software used at the Administration Building entrance on base, the image of his face was passed through a database to confirm his identity. When his identity was confirmed as matching the orders, the Staff Sergeant nodded to the second airman standing guard, and handed the paper back to Riggs.
"Get in and pick a seat, Sir," Austin told him. "Our orders are to take off as soon as you were aboard, and daylight is burning. We have a long flight ahead of us."
"Will this plane be bringing us all the way to Kennedy?" he asked, stepping into the shaded rear of the plane.
No longer needing them, he folded his sunglasses back up and put them back in his breast pocket, followed by the folded orders. Walking past several empty seats until he reached the middle of the plane between the wings, he took off his heavy bag and put it on one of the canvas and metal chairs, and settled himself beside it.
Once he had sat down, the second airman hit the ramp control and closed the back of the plane up, blocking off their view of the landing field and the warehouse buildings beyond. With an almost silent sigh of relief, Austin sat in the seat across from him, then reported into his shoulder mounted radio that they were ready to take off.
"This plane is taking us as far as Peterson Air Force Base, up in Colorado Springs," Austin finally answered. "Once we reach Peterson, they have us switching over to a C-130 that will take us the rest of the way. We will be flying from there with some supplies headed towards Kennedy Space Center, to disguise the purpose of the flight.
"I won't lie to you, sir. Something has really stirred the hornets' nest up in Washington, and the less I know about it the better off I will be. Our job is to guard you until we can hand you over to Major General Lee, the Base Commander over at Kennedy."
"Understood, Staff Sergeant," Riggs nodded to the man. "I appreciate the escort, and I will do my best not to make your job any harder than it already is."
"Much appreciated, Sir," the man nodded back.
Taking a moment to pull the orders back out from his pocket, he quickly read them over once more, trying to wrap his head around the turn his life had just taken. He had come a long way from being grounded by General Greenwode for being too good with reading sensors.
Now here he was, on a plane headed along a journey that would first lead him across the nation to Kennedy Space Center in Florida, and eventually from there into space, and the Moon itself. Not only that, but once they had settled on the Moon, they would exploring a crashed alien ship. Who knew what kind of strange things they would find in there?
Folding the paper back up and placing it back in his pocket, he rested his hand on the front of his shirt where Stevenson's necklace rested against his skin. Despite the excitement about what the future held for him up in space, his mind kept turning to the young woman he had just left behind, and the memory of that first kiss.