Fleeting Peace

It’s early. Too early for my sleep crusted eyes and cloudy mind. But duty calls: Simon, our Boston Terrier, needs to go outside. Jill fills her part of this morning routine. “The dog needs to go out,” she mumbles, her notification of Simon’s awakening and a call to action for me.

There’s nothing remarkable about this morning. Simon sniffs about the lawn, marking his territory, fierce descendant of wolves that he is. Content that his turf is dutifully claimed, we walk back to the patio and into the house where the kettle is near done warming its contents. Food gets put into the dog’s bowl, and is gone in seconds. Breakfast for Simon is not about enjoyment, it’s all about expediency.

I go about my other morning ritual, then bring both Simon (who’s afraid of stairs and refuses to go up or down them) and our coffee to our bedroom. After depositing Simon in his dog bed, I set the coffees on their respective side tables.

Jill is sleeping. I crawl back into bed, and she snuggles up to me, head on my chest, her breathing barely breaking rhythm. Light breezes come in through our open windows, flung about the room by the ceiling fan, creating the illusion of coolness. The humidity also makes its way in, the light rain outside unable to dampen its effects. We lay like this, Jill sleeping, me drifting off slightly to that blissful little place where you’re not entirely awake, but also not deep enough for dreams to take hold of you and tell you stories. I wake every so often, usually to the dog snoring as he does, snorty and loud. My arm is asleep now, and our skin is sticking to each other’s, another demonstration of humidity’s sly prowess. I’m still not fully awake, but my mind says “This is nice. Don’t move.” Strange notion for someone who is clearly uncomfortable.

The machinery inside my head comes more fully to the fore. I stay still. The sounds of the distant highway, its white noise hum, waft in the windows, too. There’s a few birds chittering and chatting. I open my eyes and look out the window. One of our large oak trees has been serving as a home for wood peckers for three years now as fewer and fewer leaves adorn its branches. A squirrel scurries up its trunk. Life is happening out there. Sometimes I forget that life isn’t just a human thing; there’s a myriad of living creatures moving in and out of our days. Our human experience has rendered these to the background for most. I only notice them when I get out of the constant thrum of thoughts and need to be active. I am a fidgeter by nature, in real life and online. Sitting still is not a skill I’ve had the ability to acquire.

I’m not alone in that. It’s challenging to be present and slow ourselves down, much less be still and take everything in. Incessant news cycles, world injustices, the lure of distraction from the awfulness that can engulf us, the desire to be right and make your points to someone who has no interest in real dialogue, the ever changing landscape of parenting teens and preteens. The bustle is so loud, the quiet doesn’t stand a chance to grab our attention.

There are moments, though, like this. Where natural elements gently remind you that there is more going on in the background, begging for your attention. Where the skin of your loved one is against yours, their trust in you absolute as they sleep in your arms. Where you don’t feel the pull of house projects and the need to be doing something.

They are rare and fleeting. For an hour this morning, I knew gratefulness and peace. I was still and mindful and it was beautiful.

Soon, the world will collapse this small cocoon of joy. The freneticism of life will demand I move, and I will meet its call. Hopefully I’ll take a second or two and recall the moment of this morning, smile, and move on to tackle the next crisis that presents itself. I’ll promise myself to slow down, and take things in. It’s a largely empty promise, as life tends to detest inactivity. But some day I will find it again, bask in it, and wonder why I don’t seek it out more.

Right now, though, I’ll milk this for all it’s worth.


Annika Bates made herself a legend even before she saved Earth and the moon.

She was the first person to fly the Moonraker Assault Vessel (MAV for short). It was the first armed ship used to defend Lunula, the Earth’s first –and so far only – terraformed city on the moon. Prior to her piloting gig, Annika led the crew who built the Lunula itself, earning her the praise and admiration of billions for such a monumental task. Before that, she was the youngest to be accepted into NASA’s Astronaut Corps at seventeen years old. While her intelligence was on par with the greats in human history, her physical talents were even more prodigious. But her determination pushed her faster and farther than any astronaut, female or male, ever dreamed.

After the completion of Lunula, Annika returned to Earth to oversee the more daunting undertaking of creating a military presence in space. Lunula was utterly vulnerable with no way to disguise or protect a massive dome on a satellite consisting of nothing but rocks and craters. So, the Universal Military Alliance formed, designed by all of the remaining countries not on fire from conflict or drowned by rising seas, and made their first priority the creation of a defense force able to defend the moon city from any and all threats.

Transport ships were plentiful but ill-suited for anything more than moving supplies and people to Lunula. Engineers, scientists, and pilots worked tirelessly to fashion the right design for assault ships. Plans were finalized, with Annika naming the fleet in homage to her love of James Bond films. Production began.

Four months later, and with a week of intense testing yielded perfect results, the first Moonraker Assault Vessel was completed and ready for a manned test. Annika volunteered, shouting down any who tried to dissuade her. This was her baby, and she alone was going to take it out into the eternal black.

The launch, like the testing, was flawless. It exited the Earth’s atmosphere at nearly 40,000 miles per hour, bursting into space. Annika’s breath was taken away at the vastness of the galaxy before her. It was this way every single time she flew into space, and she never tired of its grandeur.

She started the predetermined flight tests for maneuverability, gliding the MAV in a series of turns and speeds. She marveled at its ability to navigate at advanced speeds and how effortless it felt. The MAV passed all tests with flying colors. Turning towards Lunula, she gunned it to the last of the maneuverability tests. She landed the MAV, pretty as you please, in the bay built for it outside the dome. Tomorrow they would test the weapons systems, far away from home.

Annika just sat down at her desk reviewing the data from earlier when she was hailed by UMA headquarters on Earth.

“Incoming call from General Saito. Incoming call from General Saito,” the computer voice droned in monotone.

Annika sighed. General Eike Saito was Japan’s contribution to the UMA. She was tough and humorless, but damn it all if she wasn’t also thorough. Probably can’t wait to disseminate the results, Annika thought. This’ll be a barrel of laughs for sure.

“Answer call,” Annika said, bracing for a relentless and tedious review.

The video feed popped up. General Saito’s brow was furrowed, more than her usual stern look, and her eyes flicked about with a sense of worry. Pursed lips completed the look telling that something was wrong.

“General Saito,” said Annika with a nod to the camera, her version of a salute.

“Colonel Bates,” the General nodded back, her expression darkening. “There is an unidentified object approaching at speeds never before documented. We have confirmed this is not a comet or meteor. There are multiple heat signatures in the object. Origin unknown. The trajectory takes it directly between Earth and Lunula.”

Images glowed on the display. Something triangular shot across the screen so fast that it almost escaped the camera providing the feed. Annika squinted. “Is that… Jupiter in the background?”

“Yes it is, Colonel.”

That can’t be right. The object moved so quickly Jupiter was a near blur on the screen. But the familiar giant red dot was unmistakable. It was Jupiter, alright.

Eyes narrowed, Annika said, “Orders, General?”

“We must accelerate our weapons testing. Intercept this unknown object and destroy it.”

“But we have no idea what this is, General.”

“Exactly. And we can’t afford finding out.” The screen went blank.

The colonel sighed, making her way to the hanger to suit up and take off.


The MAV screamed across the void. Annika set her course to intercept the unknown object. They hadn’t calculated for something moving this rapidly, so she wasn’t sure if their weapons could properly target it. Part of her wanted to disobey orders and discover whether this was the chance for contact with another lifeform, but she pushed that to the back of her mind. Orders were orders.

With resolve, she hurtled towards the rendezvous point. A few minutes remained, so she brought her weapons up to bear. The targeting system confirmed two heat signatures in the craft. There was no denying it was a ship of some kind. The signatures were blurry at best, and their tracking system was unsuccessful with locking onto the ship, as she feared.

“MAV 1 to UMA Base. MAV 1 to UMA Base. Confirmed two heat signatures in object. Weapons systems unable to obtain lock. Permission to switch to manual,” Annika said.

Saito’s response was terse, immediate. “Permission granted, MAV 1.”

With one flick of a switch, the weapons were under Annika’s control. She knew she had one chance at this. The ship’s speed was too great for a second round. Eyes narrowed, she pushed the MAV to its limits. Years of training honed her calculations. Readying herself, she fired.

The lasers, casting a diffused blue trail behind, zoomed to the rendezvous point. The unknown thing did too. Annika felt her body tense as both projectiles moved to intercept. A split second before collision, her communications systems blipped. Someone or something wanted to communicate. It wasn’t UMA command. It was something else. Then laser and object met. A brilliant but brief light burst and disappeared. The object was gone, as was the signal she’d received.


Sitting in her office at Lunula, she mulled over the past few days. The world made her the savior of the Earth and its moon. She’d saved them all from an alien threat, or so it was told to the masses. Yet, she couldn’t stop thinking about that last moment signal before it was vaporized. She felt like it was more than a signal. After her supposed heroics, Annika had not slept well, that looming feeling clouding her thoughts and dreams.

She shook her head and drained her scotch. No use worrying over it now.  Then…her communications unit beeped. A single blip. She went rigid.

Her screens lit up, displaying countless lines of dark triangular objects moving side by side, Saturn and her rings in the background. A computerized voice boomed from the speakers.

“Beings of the third planet: we are contacting you as a mercy. Our race was passing through your galaxy to our new colony. You destroyed our envoy without provocation. It was our guide, not equipped for fighting. By eliminating our envoy, you have declared war. You now must defend or evacuate your civilization, a chance that is more than you gave our guide.”

Her jaw dropped. She watched the screen as the armada shimmered briefly before innumerable red streaks filled her view.

“Oh my god,” she whispered.

She had doomed them all.

Photo Credit: Richard Bizley