The Project Manager

by Terry Connolly

  The contract for choosing the crew and colonists hadn’t been granted yet, it was such a controversial area that it had been agreed the UN committee would chose the human resources agency that would manage the recruitment process, but there was a serious danger that this company, Ephrem Resources, would have enough backing to win the contract.

  Laure took a sip of her coffee “You know, I’m not comfortable with this. I have dealt with people like this before and it never ends cleanly, they are too well connected and are used to getting what they want. We should just leave it up to the UN committee, it’s not my responsibility to stop them and it’s certainly not yours.”

  “I agree, we can’t control everything, but wouldn’t it make you sick to your stomach, if after all our work, the new colony will be people they select? What if they are chosen from their shareholders families, or if they have a religious bias?”

  “We don’t know that John, the UN committee will have safeguards in place to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

  “Didn’t you have safeguards in place to make sure new companies with political ties wouldn’t benefit?”

  “That’s different, it was financial. This lot seem to be motivated by more than money, everything they have done has been within the law, but it’s not our place to judge their ethics.”

  “Then whose place is it? Can this information be leaked? Surely if the UN committee knew that the main tender for selecting colonists was run by a bunch of fundamentalists it might think twice” said John.

  “If this information was leaked they would know it came from here, we are the only ones watching them, the only freedom of information requests on Ephrem Resources came from this office. They know we know about them.”

  “Surely it’s worth the risk?”

  “The risk to whom? If you were caught interfering in the UN tendering process you would be fired straight away regardless of your good intentions. The Project can’t afford to lose you. As for me, I could kiss my political career goodbye; I’d be branded as some sort of vehement atheist, seeing enemies wherever I look. There’s nothing we can do.”

  John let a deep sigh, “I suppose you’re right, it is beyond my remit, I only need concern myself with getting the ship launched, and it’s not up to me who is on it. Bet Sophie is pissed though, she has devoted years to rooting out companies like this, and thanks to her we have probably saved billions.”

  There was a knock on the door, Sophie entered.

  “Speak of the devil” said Laure.

  “I’m not quite that bad. So what were you saying about me?”

  “Nothing” said John, “we were just talking about Ephrem resources and what we’re going to do, or rather not do about them.”

  “Oh, well, I’ve had that argument several times with Laure. I’m allowed to keep investigating them of course, but I can’t find anything.”

  “Maybe there’s nothing to find” said John

  “Maybe, but I’m still uncomfortable about it, perhaps I just have my own prejudices to get over.”

  “Yes” said Laure “that’s exactly it. Every religion has the right to representation on the Zheng He; we are even building a joint worship area aren’t we? They also have a right to bid for the Human Resources contract if they want and they don’t have to declare their religion to do so.”

  Sophie looked upset, but she kept it in, “Can I have your permission then, that if they win the contract, and I find that they are giving their people preferential treatment, that then you will submit my findings to the UN Committee?”

  “Yes Sophie, you have my word.”

  “Thank you.”

  With that part of business sorted out, they chatted a little about the general state of the word, John’s training, and Abby’s latest escapades. She really was adorable, John loved nothing more than to talk about daddy’s little girl and how smart she was. Already she had developed an impressive vocabulary for a 3 year old and her teachers at the crèche said she was miles ahead of the other children. It was a miracle Laure managed to stay engaged in the conversation. She had bile accumulating in the pit of her stomach. Xhu had given her strict instructions on Ephrem Resources, to go lightly on them, in his opinion they were too dangerous for her to tackle directly. She had asked why but the only reply was that there were others behind this company, ruthless people, people that even the Chinese secret service had trouble monitoring. She was trying to get Sophie to back off the investigation completely, but the secrecy of it all had only piqued her interest even more. For now though these worries could wait, talk of children reminded them that there was more to life, and they all needed some distraction. At a quarter to four, they got up together and John took out his notes.

  John hated public speaking, but it had to be done. Laure had promised John would address some of her fellow MEP’s and give them the latest news on how construction was going. He remembered Graham having to do this, it was the part of the job he hated the most too, trying to keep investors, be they public or private, feeling special. This time it was a group of 300 at a wine reception. There was a lot he wanted to tell them and he managed to speak for nearly an hour, the questions added another 40 minutes. He told them about the timeline, how after the ground test phase the engines would be disassembled in the south of France, flown to Russia for launch and sent up to be reassembled in orbit. The older guests who remembered securing funding for the ITER project really took joy in that revelation, in a way they had been a part of that result, and politicians love it when they feel they have achieved something good.

  He also told them about his training for space, what it was like and how nervous he was, but because of the improvements in space travel the training was nothing like the gruelling programme astronauts in the twentieth century had gone through. Basically he just needed to know how to handle the G-forces at launch and how to operate in zero gravity as well as emergency situations. He also spoke about the cooperation with Russia, Japan and China for the outfitting of the ship, but most of all he spoke about the mining operations, after all, that is what they had secured the money for, and most of the miners were from central European nations. He was surprised how interested the audience was and he got a good round of applause at the end. He hung on for another hour to shake a few hands and to thank a few people personally for the work they had done in supporting Laure and helping to secure the money. He didn’t know them but Sophie guided him around the room, she really was good at schmoosing.

  John still had to get his day job done. At one stage he snuck off into a corner for twenty minutes to call his assistant in Houston. The time differences meant he had trouble sleeping so he would probably do some work in his hotel later. Tomorrow he was Moscow bound for a week, and needed the specs for the ventilation shafts and the access areas for wiring and maintenance. It wasn’t glamorous, but the ship wouldn’t be going anywhere without it. After that it was Japan to discuss some of the robotics for food processing, cleaning, planting etc. John, or at least his team, needed to know the mass of everything and the dimensions of everything. If something was too big to be sent up on one shuttle then a solution needed to be found to send it up in pieces and assemble it there.

  By the time 8 p.m. had come around he was exhausted and running out of small talk, but at least it was time to go. Laure, Sophie and John took the lift down to the car park, all happy to be finally going for something to eat. Sophie leaned over and gave her husband a quick kiss, “You were wonderful hun, you’re a natural at it by now”. John was used to praise and he never believed any of it, unless it came from Sophie, he knew that if she said he was good than he was good, but also, she was the person whose opinion he cared about most. As they walked from the lift to the car he thought back to his time at Cadarache, how alone he had felt and how he had almost accepted that is how it would be for the rest of his life since his work would always come first. It still came first, but thanks to Sophie he did not have to sacrifice anything, he did not have to sacrifice love and
family for success. Laure paused to search her monstrosity of a handbag for her keys as John and Sophie kept walking towards the car. He placed his hand on her waist as he always did, just to feel her there.

  What was that noise? Was there another transit party last night? John felt like he had the worst hangover ever, even his bed felt awful. He tried to move. Pain like he had never felt before shot up one side of his body. His eyes flew open in agony. This wasn’t their bedroom, it didn’t have a concrete ceiling like that. He knew he had shouted when he felt the pain, but the sound came from somewhere else far in the distance. The noise was a sort of muffled symphony of whirring. Car alarms he realised. He was still in the car park. He could see Laure lying a few feet away, her legs were moving, she seemed to be in a similar state to him, trying to figure out where she was. Black smoke was climbing across the ceiling. This broke through the calm and filled John with panic, he knew they had to move because of it, but he couldn’t, he tried to turn his head but the pain was too much. Sophie, where was Sophie? He had his arm around her waist, but his hand felt empty. He could still move it slightly. He reached across as much as he could, not far really, but all he could feel was the concrete floor. He had to find her. Maybe if he turned on his side. He moved his free arm under his back and tried to push upwards. He could hear himself screaming in the distance, so far away…far far away, somewhere else, a place where there was pain, he must stay there.

  More agony, he knew it hurt just as badly as it had earlier, but somehow it seemed more tolerable. There were people standing over him and they were pulling at him, lifting him. They were trying to be gentle but every movement, every step they took was agony. He became aware enough to realise that he was being treated and that these were paramedics. He was still breathing but it hurt badly. One of them noticed his eyes were open. He said something, perhaps in French perhaps in Flemish, it didn’t matter, John still couldn’t hear much. He tried to ask where Sophie was, but the words wouldn’t come out, his mind was clouding over and everything was starting to feel far away again. No, he thought, not again, he must stay with it, he must stay conscious, he must. But he didn’t have a choice.

  “John”. That sounded like his mother, but she wasn’t in the car park. “John, can you hear me? The doctor says you can. It’s time to wake up.”

  Surely he didn’t have school today. He could remember graduating, hell, he had a wife and Abby. It had been ages since he had a dream about school. But he could feel his mother’s hand on his shoulder. He opened his eyes. The light was painful, the air was painful, life was painful.

  “John, oh thank god.” His mother leaned away from view and a man in white coat leaned in. More light.

  “It’s ok Mrs. Peeters, he’s conscious, I need to get my colleagues so we can run some tests immediately to check for brain damage, but the scans were good. Severe concussion, but nothing permanent we hope.”

  He watched his mother thank the doctor. She had tears running down her face, he had rarely seen her cry.

  “ughm”, at least that was what it sounded like. He meant to say “maman” but the tubes in his mouth prevented enunciation. She kissed him on his forehead.

  “Don’t speak, you can’t anyway and the doctors don’t want you stressed. You’re probably high on morphine or something. We were so worried about you John, your father is on his way with Abby. The poor sweetheart is so scared. You always said she was clever John, you were right, she knows something is up.”

  John tried to register where the pain was coming from. It seemed to come from everywhere. When he tried to think it was like wading through tar. Sophie, where was Sophie.

  “so-he”, that was good, it almost sounded right, “So-he?”

  He could see the look on his mother’s face, but at that moment a nurse came in. “Shush dear, let the doctors do their tests, and we can talk afterwards. Relax now, we need to know you’re ok. Abby will be here when you come out.”

  The nurse closed the curtains around his bed and started to press buttons on the machines beside him. He could feel the pains in different parts of his body dimming as the morphine entered his blood again. There was one pain it didn’t numb though, and it was a pain that accompanied him back into his deep sleep. That look on his mother’s face, if Sophie was fine she would have said so. In fact it would have been the first thing his mother would have mentioned. He knew his wife was dead.

  Chapter 9: 2040

  John asked the nurse to turn off the TV. There was another news report on the car bomb. Apparently John was “very lucky”. He didn’t feel it, he just felt empty. His mother had finally told him straight out what he already knew, that Sophie was gone. Every time his mother brought Abby to see him she kept crying for her maman but there was nothing he could do, he couldn’t even hold her and tell her everything would be ok and maman was in a better place, the sort of comforting lies we tell our children but are really telling ourselves. His injuries weren’t as bad as they felt. Lumps of metal had embedded themselves in his side but somehow they had missed any organs. The emptiness he was experiencing had put all his other hurts into perspective. Laure had been to visit him. She was in the same hospital under observation for severe concussion but apart from that and some cuts and bruises she would be ok. He knew better than to blame her for what had happened, she was probably busy enough blaming herself, though he had been pretty short with her when she sat by his bedside, not out of malice, it was just that he couldn’t find the energy to relate to anyone. John would be discharged in three weeks to stay with his parents. They were delaying Sophie’s memorial service until he could be brought to it; though he didn’t want to think about that, it was weeks away and the future no longer existed. For the first time in his life the project manager could not plan ahead, could not see the next step or imagine any type of tomorrow, except for one filled with nothingness. He didn’t blame himself, but he was angry. His two moods were sadness and anger. Who would do this? Who would take Sophie away from him? Who would take Sophie away from Abby? Was it Ephrem Resources or was it the mysterious source of information Sophie had sometimes mentioned? Was the bomb aimed at him or Laure? Probably Laure since it was her car. Maybe it was just random, an attack on any MEP. The media was rife with speculation and all it did was fuel his own paranoia. There had been no warning, no note, no phone call to the police. At the moment TV channels were split between Islamic extremists, and anti-EU terrorists. Over the past few years such groups had come into existence but they mainly threatened commissioners and sent suspicious packages to various offices. The only bomb they had ever set off was in the UK, and that had been nothing more than a few puffs of smoke from a dustbin. This would be a sudden escalation in violence for them.

  When the police came to question John he was still in a daze, practically rambling like a geriatric in response to precise questions such as: “did you notice anyone in the car park as you entered?” Did he? “Were any cars entering or leaving at the time?” Were there? All he could remember was the feel of Sophie in his arm, her perfume. He was afraid that if he tried to remember anything else he might forget those last moments with her. He had told them about Ephrem resources and the research Sophie was doing. They took note of it and said they would investigate further. That probably wouldn’t reveal anything new but still, it was all he had to go on. Bizarrely he began to hope it was an anti-EU terrorist group, if it was Ephrem then it would mean Sophie had somehow brought it on herself. It was a ridiculous feeling to have but he couldn’t shake it. The anger was desperate to find someone or something to cling on to, someone to blame, even it was Sophie herself.

  After four days of treatment he was still on morphine, but the dose was reduced and he felt well enough to speak to a therapist. He was a little uncomfortable speaking to a stranger about the thoughts that were running through his head, but Laure had insisted on it, and after a couple of sessions he had to admit it was helping. His therapist was a very matter-of-fact man, something which John appreciated si
nce he too was a matter-of-fact man. He helped John to stand to one side of his emotions, to see them as something separate from himself, and then analyse them. It wasn’t until their fourth session together that the subject of who to blame came up. John was hesitant, perhaps because the question felt too much like an intrusion which was close to the truth, but slowly he began to open up.

  “I don’t know who to blame. It’s not like it was some tragic accident as though she was hit by lightning or had a sudden heart attack, but at the same time it’s not as if she had been hit by a car, then I would have the driver to blame. There is no one, just an image in my mind of someone planting that bomb in Laure’s car, but they have no face.”

  His therapist hummed and wrote something down, as therapists do, “Really, there is no face at all? That’s good John, believe it or not, it means you are not misdirecting your anger. It still has no place to go does it?”

  John hesitated for a moment before speaking again. How much did he trust this guy? “Well, yes, it does. I have my suspicions but they feel paranoid to me, a bit out there if you know what I mean. I’m afraid that if I say them out loud they will make me seem crazy.”

  “You’re talking to a psychiatrist John, I’ve seen all manner of crazy. Well I’m not going to judge you, but I can tell you if you are crazy or not. I suppose it comes with the job. Why don’t you tell me about them, let’s try and imagine faces?”

  “I have two suspects, not people really, but organisations…..”

  “Go on”

  “Sophie had been investigating….a company, a European company, that is trying to bid on a tender for the Zheng He. It seems to be run by a small group of shady Christian fundamentalists who have a lot of powerful connections. Sophie wanted proof that they were up to something, you see, this company didn’t exist before the new planet was discovered, and we are…I mean we were…suspicious of companies like this because a lot of them were just fronts for corrupt business. But this one has a lot of support and does seem to be squeaky clean in terms of its financial dealings. Laure seemed weary of them, she kept trying to put Sophie off her investigations, which I thought strange.”