When the Stars Fade (The Gray Wars)

When the

Stars Fade

The Gray Wars

I

by

Adam Korenman

Copyrigh
t©
2013 Adam Korenman

All rights reserved.

ISBN: 1493740261

ISBN-13: 978-1
4
93740260

Cover Art by Diogo Lando

www.diogolando.com/en

This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is unintentional. While the locations used are real, there have been dramatic liberties taken for the sake of the story.

The science is mostly made up, but could also be genius.

www.whenthestarsfade.com

DEDICATION

To my parents, who inspire me to do better.

To my brother and sister, who drive me to try harder.

To my friends from high school, who gave me the characters.

To my friends in California, who held me to a higher standard.

And to Scott Tipton, who told me that writers finish.

CONTENTS

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I wanted to give special thanks to a few people who helped make this book possible. First, I want to thank Scott Tipton,
New York Times
bestselling author of comics and non-fiction. Scott told me to finish something I started, and gave me boosts along the way. He also edited this novel in its earliest form, making it resemble the English language in a more literal fashion.

Sam and Chris, who sacrificed their own time to see if this story was at all interesting. They also provided an invaluable soundboard off which I bounced many ideas.

Jessica (TCBG) who helped me market and promote, and supplied the best fried rice this side of the Pacific.

Flynn, who refused to let me cut corners.

My sister and brother, who kept me grounded and provided much needed artistic support.

My parents, who helped me stay positive in this turbulent career choice.

To all the wonderful people in my life who contributed in ways big and small, who are too numerous to mention by name (I know, copout), but know that I love you all.

And to Corinne, who said she’d never date a “creative type.” I still can’t believe my luck.

Thank you for picking up this book (or downloading, or borrowing). You are taking part in an adventure I started over ten years ago. I hope you enjoy.

Adam Korenman

Chapter One

Lights Over Luna

“
We did
n’
t find gods in the stars. Only darkness
.
”

                                                       
Tractate of the Guiding Light

-                            I                            -

October 12, 2236

              Cameron Davis had already stepped in the vomit before the smell hit him. H
e’
d been rushing with his friend George Locklear to make the late train back to the base, not watching where h
e’
d been putting his feet. Now the rank odor of bile and half-digested burger followed him down the road, mingling in with the subtle notes of ozone coming from the industrial filters.

             
“Oh, fuck me sideways
.”
Cameron stopped and lifted his leg, inspecting the soiled shoe
.“
Tha
t’
s just great
.
”

             
George hid a growing grin behind his hand
.“
I think tha
t’
s a sign of good luck
.
”

             
“I think i
t’
s a sign to never take this alley again
.”
Cameron scowled as he scraped the polished shoe against the tiled floor, leaving streaks of thin brown liquid. He gagged, swallowing hard to keep his dinner in place
.“
This shortcut of yours sucks
.
”

             
“Ye of little faith
,”
George said
.“
We needed the extra time; w
e’
re running late as it is
.”
  George brushed Camero
n’
s shoulder, knocking some lint off the pristine jacket.
Like Cameron, he wore a sharply-tailored uniform and garrison cap
, though his hat was canted precariously to the right. 
His own dress uniform was wrinkled and seemed to be shedding cat hair, but at least he smelled fresh enough. The young pilot took off toward the far side of the narrow alley, gesturing for Cameron to keep up.

             
“Tell me again why we have to go to this
?”
Cameron asked. He quick-stepped until he was alongside his friend.

             
“I
t’
s office
r’
s call. W
e’
ll throw back some free booze, rub elbows with a general and call it a night
.”
He shot Cameron a sideways glance
.“
Wha
t’
s up with you today
?
”

             
Cameron frowned
.“
I do
n’
t know.
I’
ve been kinda mopey. Doom and gloom
.
”

             
They passed a row of fast-food vendors as they turned into the station plaza. The scent of roasted meat, heady spices and grilled vegetables drowned out the last acrid tendrils of the sticky mess on Camero
n’
s shoe. George grabbed Camero
n’
s arm, forcing him to stop and drink in the sweet smells.

             
“You need to lighten up, Cam
.”
George continued on, snatching a pair of warm donut-holes from an unwitting merchant. He tossed one to Cameron
.“
Live in the moment
.
”

             
Cameron checked his watch
.“
At this moment, w
e’
re about to miss the nine-fifteen
.”
As his friend looked away, Cameron slipped a crumpled wad of cash onto the donut-merchan
t’
s counter. A few of the food trucks accepted electronic payment, but all preferred bills or coins.

             
George shook his head, pointing out toward the horizon
.“
Not a chance. The train never beats her
.”
He stared out the window, letting out a deep breath
.“
I tell you, Cam. This will never get old for me
.
”

             
Earth rose slowly from beneath the cold lunar landscape, its deep blue oceans glittering as the water caught the sun. A dazzling display of lights from the various megacities speckled the shadow the moon cast over the human Homeworld. The star-cluster motes of yellow and white marked each major capital of the continents, with smaller circles for major sub-capitals. Hundreds of winking sparks hovered over the planet in a constant and colorful ballet. Shuttles, catering to both the civilian and military stations,  made travel to and from the surface fast and easy. Twelve-lane high-speed transport lines nearly eliminated the need for terrestrial air traffic, creating a safer sky for incoming and outgoing space vessels. From orbit, the roads became spidery glowing veins across the Eart
h’
s face.

             
Cameron stared at the beautiful blue ball, a hint of a grin growing on his face.
The two pilots walked together, weaving around clusters of engineers, scientists and blue-collar workers as they made their way toward the platform. As they passed the ticket counter, the tight hallway opened up into a wide hall. The twin-rail MagLev bisected the room, with signs pointing toward the boarding lanes. Cameron punched Georg
e’
s shoulder, but smiled all the same. They stopped near a pylon, and Cameron looked out a nearby glass wall at the stark landscape. He bit into the fried dough, savoring the butter and sugar as it overwhelmed his mouth.
George is right
, he thought.
This is hardly the end of the world
.

             
In between the Earth and her stations, the sky rippled with activity. Mammoth chemical haulers lumbered toward hexagonal docking bays, dragging tanks of helium slush or crates of processed ore from one of the nearby asteroid camps. Armed patrols flitted in and out of traffic, scanning cargo containers and checking registration tags. Passenger transports lifted off from the surface, tearing away to distant moons with cabins full of scientists, students and tourists. All travelled in a chaotic dance, weaving in and out of flight paths seemingly at random, but completely orchestrated by an enormous station floating just out of the way.

             
The colossal Terra Node hovered in perfect balance between the planet and her smaller heavenly body. The statio
n—
a marvel of science and engineerin
g—
was a self-sustaining city in and of itself. Over one hundred thousand people worked and lived aboard the monolith, with a million more passing through each week. Each section rotated on the axis to generate artificial gravity, allowing the personnel aboard to work in relative comfort. Two levels of botanical gardens generated enough oxygen to support the crew, and food to complement the daily deliveries from the Moon and Earth. More than just a travel hub, Terra acted as the gatekeeper for the system. Hundreds of Faster Than Light transmitters beamed a constant stream of signals to dozens of relay nodes across Sol, maintaining the fragile connection between the center of Terran civilization and the rest of the colonies. As long as each side of the system maintained the grid, humanity remained linked.

             
Third shift had just begun, and the halls and meeting places of the station were epicenters of ordered chaos as white-collar workers finished the day and blue-collars started theirs. Bars and clubs on the residential levels came to life, and the sound of music echoed down the corridors. Pilots and soldiers from the nearby lunar bases laughed and joked as they walked away from the arrival docking bay and toward the thriving night scene. Neon signs beckoned to tourists and natives alike, offering drinks or dancing or all manner of vices. A group of Marines, decked out in their dress whites, wandered past a trio of girls from the Meir Science Academy. The leathernecks whistled and waved at the pretty acolytes, who blushed appropriately in response, and they all went their separate ways.

             
Lun
a—
as Eart
h’
s satellite was calle
d—
buzzed with activity. On the surface of the moon, the bleak landscape became a network of immense dome-like habitats and various military and civilian complexes, all crowding together in a bright and vibrant city. Armstrong, the capital city, radiated with artificial lights. Miners from the sun-drenched Alpine Valley returned home in their lumbering crawlers, kicking up monstrous clouds of dust that took hours to settle. The yellow insect-like vehicles dragged huge rolling drums of crystalized carbon and helium for the refineries on the far side of the city. At the head of the convoy, two men in Extravehicular Activity (EVA) suits drove four-wheelers as a vanguard to ensure the roads remained clear. The moon was notorious for throwing up boulders the size of buildings at a momen
t’
s notice.

             
As night settled, the 21:15 mag-rail to Andretti Station arrived at the Plaza Romania near downtown Armstrong. George nudged Cameron, smiling triumphantly. They hung back as the train slowed to a stop, leaving space for the passengers to file out. Hundreds of young men and women, eager to hit the clubs before the crowds grew any larger, surged off the platform toward the energetic city scene. Only a few people remained to board the silver cars, their faces sour as they passed the excited throngs of lively partiers. Cameron and George waited patiently. Every few seconds Cameron would scrape his shoe on the ground, trying to loosen the dried bits of vomit. He turned to his wingman, raising an eyebrow.

             
“You sure you want to do this? On a call night
?
”

             
George shot a knowing look back
.“
Pass up on an open bar? Cam, you know my liver ca
n’
t skip a day
.”
He caught a glance at his reflection on a nearby billboard and tried to smooth his wild brown hair with one hand
.“
Captain Newman wo
n’
t be there, and h
e’
s the only one who would care. Now come on. W
e’
re going to drown your moping out with a metric-ton of beer
.”
An opening formed in the crowd and he made his move, sliding between passengers to get to the car.

             
Cameron followed his friend into the sterile white cab, tapping his Identity Access car
d—
his ID
A—
on the charge pad as he stepped through the doors. A chime told him his account was now 2 credits lighter. The two pilots sat down, alone in the car save an old man wearing three separate overcoats who slept in the corner. The doors hissed shut and the magnetic line rail began to accelerate. Seconds later it cleared through a short tunnel and into the Lunar landscape. Cameron propped his polished shoes up on the chairs across the aisle, tilting his cap over his eyes. He had a long trip ahead.

             
As the train bobbed lazily on the magnetic lines, George amused himself by reading the colorful advertisements plastered across the compartment. Most were digital displays playing twenty-second commercial spots, but some were old-fashioned posters. He laughed as he saw a familiar face. The actres
s’
s name escaped him, but he recognized those bright blue eyes. She winked at him from the ad, her smile warm and seductive. Running in a banner across the top of the page, the emblem of the Terran Colonial Federate shimmered in the fluorescent lighting: a majestic bird-of-prey soaring over five stars. Underneath the woma
n’
s tastefully teasing breasts read the log line: Human Society
IS
Terran Society.

             
“You remember that
?”
George asked.