“Good Luck James, still feels strange calling you by your first name. It has been a pleasure serving under you.”
“You’re the one who needs all the luck now Steven. Take good care of her.”
“I will, she has a good crew, we will make it.”
Once more John hugged Abby, “I guess there’s no advice I can really give you now that I haven’t already given?”
“No Papa, there isn’t. Don’t worry about me, she’s a strong ship, you built her, and she will keep me safe.”
“When you have children, promise you’ll be there for them more than I was there for you?”
Abby pointed at the walls around them; “It’s not like they can go very far. Anyhow, don’t talk like that; you were always there for me when I needed you most.”
Hong placed her hand on John’s shoulder, “it’s time to go.” She gave Abby a final hug and climbed through the shuttle hatch. John held Abby’s hand a little longer “goodbye.” John’s eyes became moist until Abby let go of his hand, “goodbye papa, I’ll give you a call on Tuesday when you’re back in Belgium ok?” He nodded in agreement and followed Hong to his seat.
As the airlock closed behind them, Captain Bowers turned to the members of his crew present and announced; “senior officers; let’s meet at o-one-hundred hours for lunch, we have a lot of work ahead of us this week. Everyone else, back to your duties, our mission has begun.” As they left the room Captain Bowers turned back towards the airlock window and watched the shuttle as it receded from the docking bay doors. He touched his chest and felt the outline of the gold cross beneath his shirt. The plan might have changed, but in his heart he felt that Fr. Juan, god rest his soul, would have been proud that he had made it this far.
Chapter 22: 8th of October 2061
The camera panned across the faces of the various leaders standing side by side in the viewing gallery of Mission Control, each one with a smile of self-satisfaction a mile wide. None of them had been in power when the Zheng He was being built, let alone during the initial planning stages, yet election timing had decreed that they should be the leaders who would get the credit for launching her. There had been much diplomatic wrangling about the protocol for the launch. All leaders wanted to be the one to push a big red button, but of course there was no big red button, the Zheng He was perfectly capable of launching herself. Still, there had been a final agreement that the head of Mission Control would turn to them all before launch and symbolically ask them for permission to begin the countdown, that way they could all go home saying they had launched the Zheng He. It was a pretty cramped room but they would have their photo opportunity.
The commentary over the television coverage was barely audible to Xhu, and the blurry television picture hurt his eyes, the screen was very close but it needed to be. He had gotten his wish and had managed to keep his mind alert, but now, at ninety eight years old, his sight, his hearing, his bones themselves, had given up on him one by one. He felt betrayed by his body and cursed it every morning as he woke up to arthritic pains, yet every night he thanked it for getting him through another day. “Turn it up!” he feebly shouted.
“It is turned up,” Bin shouted back, “you’re just deaf.”
Xhu made his usual grumble about the lack of respect amongst the young while Bin just sat and smiled at this dear old man that meant so much to him.
Having a chance to be grumpy usually perked Xhu up a little; “I’m glad Minister Wang is there, at least someone who actually did some work is getting credit.”
“You got credit,” replied Bin, “we both did, spending credit, the best kind.”
“All mine does is pay for these damnable beeping machines all around me, that one over there just goes “ping” at random, I don’t even know what they do.”
“They keep you alive, that is what they do. I’m surprised you can hear them anyway over all your grumbling.”
“I’m supposed to grumble, I’m old.”
On the TV screen, all the leaders stood up and gave a thumbs-up to mission control through the glass in the viewing gallery. A small clock appeared on the corner of the screen and began counting down from one hundred.
“Not long now,” said Bin.
“Do you think we got them all? I don’t want to see it go wrong Bin, it’s too important.”
Bin held the old man’s hand; “Don’t worry, we got them all, and we have our own people in place to stop them if any slipped through.”
“One is enough, if he has the time, and they have lots of that.”
“We have done all we can, the changes to the command structure stops any one person being able to sabotage the mission.”
“Unless they can change the structure. You are right, of course, I am just an emotional old man letting my fears take hold. How long now?”
“Twenty seconds.”
The camera switched from a view of Mission Control, to a view of the Bridge. Captain Bowers was there, looking majestic in his white dress uniform. Abby Peeters could be seen in the background at the communications station. Bin pointed her out on the screen to Xhu.
“We did good Bin,” he replied, “both of us have done things we should not, cannot, be proud of in the name of our people, but this is something good.”
At five seconds to launch there was an external image of the Zheng He, taken from a telescope in the Andes. She was slowly rotating. She looked magnificent.
As the clock passed zero, Bin pointed at the engines; “there! Can you see the faint glow? She’s moving forward.”
Xhu pushed himself up on his aching elbows; “Yes, I can see it. I can see it. Look!”
He laughed and laughed, lay back and clapped his hands together, “we did it Bin, no matter what happens to us here, a little piece of us will be preserved forever in the children of Amrita.”
“What now?” asked Bin.
“You have work to do I assume. Perhaps a holiday is in order? As for me, I’ve had a long life, it’s time for me to go.”
“Now?”
“Well, why not? I’ve always wanted to die in a good mood, I don’t think my mood can get any better than this. Yes, push the button would you?”
“I don’t want to you to go”. Tears began to flow down Bin’s face.
“That’s an order.”
“You can’t order me anymore, I’m Senior Controller now, remember?”
“Then as a friend, please. No more pain.”
Bin reluctantly replaced the drip with the morphine solution and handed the small box with a little toggle switch on it to Xhu. As soon as it was in his hand Xhu flicked it and the morphine began to drip into the tube leading to his arm.
“Stay with me a little longer would you Bin?”
Bin took his mentor’s paper-like right hand and held it in both of his. As the Zheng He left Earth for the last time, Xhu’s departing soul left with it.
Epilogue: 2067
Abby Peters arrived back at seven that evening after finishing her shift on the Bridge and promptly flopped down on the couch; “Karl, where are you? I can smell the fertilizer, have you dragged it in on your overalls again?”
“I’m in the bathroom, washing said overalls and myself! What do you want for dinner?”
“Nothing, I’m fat.”
“You’re not fat; you’re sexy, and pregnant.”
“I’m not sexy, I’m like a whale, a big farting, leaking swelled up whale.”
Abby’s partner, Karl, came out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. He was an agricultural engineer in the garden and all that shovelling of soil, planting and harvesting had a better result than any gym. Abby never tired of seeing him with his clothes off.
“Come here and rub my swollen ankles, would you?”
“I thought I stank of fertilizer?”
“I don’t care,” she smiled crookedly at him.
As he sat there massaging her toes he decided it was time for the conversation he had been putting off; “The doctor says
there is only another week to go. It’s time we thought of a name?”
“What do you have in mind? I want to call him John, after my father.”
“And I want to call him Felix, after mine.”
“John Felix or Felix John?”
“That sounds awful.”
Abby giggled, the foot massage was tickling her toes. “John Karl sounds good?”
“I’m not going to call him after myself, that’s really egotistical. How about Philip, after my grandfather?”
“John Philip, JP, I like the sound of that.”
“Yea, that could work, sounds good.”
“Ok,” said Abby, “we can let them know back home in the postcard after he’s born. I don’t want to tempt fate.”
“The doctor says he’s perfectly healthy.”
“I know, but my step mother taught me not to go around trying to predict the future.”
“Spanish Omelette,” said Karl.
“What?”
“You asked me what was for dinner. You need lots of protein for John Philip, so Spanish Omelette.”
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