Green Wave - 1
Chapter One
Green Wave
By the early 22nd century, much of the Southern United States was reduced by coastal inundation. Many coastal cities had been abandoned. All that was left of the state of Florida was an appendage on lower Georgia, and both were commonly referred to as the New Glades. In the year 2123 CE, a megaquake measuring 9.9 rocked the New Madrid Fault, with dire consequences for the states of Georgia and Alabama.
Ch 1 P.1. The Face
It was a rugged face that drew women like bees to pollen. Marle ran the palm razor around his jaw, resigned to the fact that he would never be rid of his five o’clock shadow. His deep, dark eyes, his wavy black hair, and his ethnic features all had served him well. He paused shaving to study his face. Yes, he had much to offer the fairer sex. He was muscular and well-endowed. That was a fact he planned to use on his new interest, Doctor Hera Durham.
The elevator music was subliminal yet annoying as Marle continued shaving. He used a small mirror hung on the wall of his cramped laboratory. He paused again to look around at the rows of glass containers on the shelves built into the walls. His special experiment was on the outer surface of the shield, exposed to the sun. A humble acorn, his experiment would shed new light on the effects of the green wave on living cells.
Now three weeks into a four-year mission onboard the Tin Can, Marle could no longer smell the recycled air as he had at the beginning. Astra, the onboard AI, disrupted the boring music for a boring message. The only plus, thought Marle, was the sexy female voice.
Astra said, “Life on board The Stephen Hawking Interplanetary Solar Observatory, SHISO for short, is a fulfilling and purpose-driven walk in the park. Our nine experts in various fields assure that people on Earth enjoy the life they deserve, free from fear of the anomalous green wave. Early detection and warning on the Stephen Hawking Interplanetary Solar Observatory are paramount to the safety of all mankind. Our experts take their duties seriously; you can be sure. Praise to the brave souls of the Tin Can. Please welcome our recent addition to the guardians of Mother Earth, Doctor Marle Linden, who holds a doctorate in botany among his many achievements.”
Astra’s voice faded, and the elevator music returned. Marle laid aside the palm razor, ran a comb through his thick hair, and returned the mirror to its shelf in the locker. He turned to what he would wear for his surprise fiftieth birthday party. A quality wizard robe of fine Turkish cotton was draped over his lab chair, and a conical wizard hat sat on his workbench. The color was an eye-pleasing lavender gray. A smile on his face, Marle planned to wear the gift Hera had given him to the party. He planned to have nothing underneath but a big present for Hera after the party.
Hera’s face flashed before his mind’s eye. Hera’s auburn hair, worn long in delightful cascades, her bright blue eyes, winning smile, and personality were equally matched by her exquisite physical assets. Hera was beyond pretty; she was stacked. As her name suggested, Hera was a goddess. Marle imagined Hera biting her lower lip and moaning with the voice of Astra. With a chuckle, Marle threw off his work clothing and donned the robe. The buttons were a quaint touch, but Marle preferred Velcro seals. He felt a solid object in the padded right sleeve and discovered an inner pocket that contained a box of Diamond Matches.
The party was to be held in the mess at twenty-one hundred; he had ample time. Marle walked along the shelves and checked the monitors attached to each glass container. With a jack in the soil of each experiment, Marle kept track of moisture, acidity, aeration, and other stats. All seemed well. He turned his attention to the oak sprout positioned outside the shield. The heavy pressurized glass container was visible on the wall screen. Marle adjusted the brightness of the image and studied the growing sprout with interest. He would need to run tests when he brought it back in, but he was sure the rate of growth was far ahead of schedule.
Sitting at the workbench, Marle donned the conical hat to uncover his tablet. He opened his workstation and began to add notes. Noting the music had changed, Marle tapped on the clock and saw that he had lost track of time. He wasn’t late, not yet, but he closed the tablet and turned in his chair, feeling a sense of pride in his humble acorn sprout. He had the full backing of Corporate for his experiment, but it had not gone down well with the station chief. Rather, it had been a bone of contention between the two men, with Rowan Boyle being the most contentious. Short, obnoxious, critical, and frustrated, the station chief was a real piece of work.
Ch 1 P.2. The Bad Memory
“I don’t give a flying fuck what Corporate says. You’re on my ship,” shouted Rowan Boyle on day one. “Out here, there’s me and the deep black. Take your pick.”
“You just need to calm your short ass down, station chief. I have the sanction of Corporate for my work. Corporate gets its mandate directly from CG. You know? The President?” Marle tried to keep his voice level, but he had just acquired an instant dislike for the little man.
“I didn’t vote for him,” snapped Rowan Boyle. “On the Tin Can, there’s only one station chief. That man’s in charge of schedules and supplies. Let that sink in. I won’t let idle experimentation put my station or my people at risk.”
Marle was set to snap an answer when he took a step back in his thoughts. Choosing a calmer tack, Marle replied, “I understand your position, but believe me, I know the station protocols. I wouldn’t want to cause anyone harm, but as long as the ASD and FPT are below three, it’s all good.”
“Mister,” said Rowan, his fat eyes bulging out in unmistakable ire, “I’ll be the one to decide what’s safe on the Tin Can. If I get an ASD or an FPT of two, I’ll press the damned button. So, if you want your playthings intact, bring them in or kiss them goodbye. I don’t give a fuck about them. If you want to do plants, you can help Miss Crawford in hydroponics.” The station chief struggled up from his seat and stared at Marle with belligerent eyes. “Get this straight, mister. I will not put this station at risk for a damned acorn.”
“I think you’re being unreasonable,” said Marle, looking across the office desk at the little man. “How about I contact Corporate and have them explain the new game plan?”
“Fine with me,” answered Rowan. “I’ll tell them the same damned thing. What can they do? They’re on Earth, and we’re all hanging by our balls between Mercury and Venus. How long did it take you to get here?” Marle blinked at the five-month trip, and Rowan concluded with a smug nod, “Yeah. That’s what I’m saying.”
“Your tour has to end,” countered Marle. “What will you do when you get back to Earth?”
“I’ll deal with those assholes when I get home,” said Rowan. “Out here, I’m the boss. Make yourself useful and don’t rock the boat. Tow the line, and we’ll be fine. Trees outside the can, I’m not having it. So, don’t be waving your PhDs under my nose. I got no use for them. Practical experience and hard work earn your meal ticket.”
The office door suddenly opened, and Steph Crawford walked in with a tray, two cups, and a carafe of coffee. Tall with red hair, green eyes, and freckled, her sunny disposition instantly brightened the cramped office. “Is our station chief giving the newbie a hard time?” she asked with a broad smile as she set the tray on the desk. She nudged Marle with an elbow and said in a conspiratorial voice, “He’s just frustrated because Cleo turned him down.”
“Miss Crawford,” said Rowan with obvious irritation, “I’m holding an interview, if you don’t mind.”
Marle followed Steph to the door with his eyes. She turned and winked merrily before pulling the door behind her. “Just saying,” she said.
Marle turned back to the station chief and said, “She’s nice.”
Rowan replied, “She’s a child. She goads me on purpose.”
Marle said, “Perhaps she and I should compare notes.”
Rowan cleared his throat and narrowed his eyes as an official warning. “I expect two things,” said the chief. “Keep your nose to the grindstone, and keep your nose clean. Any questions?”
“No. No,” answered Marle.
Marle left the office and closed the door. He had refused the coffee; he wanted nothing from the little man. He wanted to spit to get the bad taste of the interview out of his mouth. He turned to the closed door and considered a vulgar gesture. No, he thought as he turned to leave. That would bring him down to the chief’s level. That’s when Marle ran into a goddess. Hera, what a babe!
