Bleaker

by Jacqueline Druga

  “We’re going through soon,” Tucker said.

  “It appears,” Buster said, “the transplant was successful. He is not rejecting the organ clones.”

  “Whose organs were cloned?” Nate asked.

  Tucker stepped out of the way.

  Rey sat up on the table next to him. She smiled and waved, then cautiously slid down with a wince.

  “Can I give you a pain reliever?” Buster asked.

  “No, I’ll be fine. I’m gonna suit up.” She moved slowly. “I’m glad you’re okay, Nate.”

  Nate nodded and gave a closed-mouth smile. Tucker helped him to sit up and then eventually off the table.

  “Anything I need to know to help him into his suit?” Tucker asked Buster.

  “Just be gentle. I will aid and join you upfront.”

  “Gonna have to put you in sleep mode, Buster,” Tucker told him. “When we go through that wormhole you may fry out if you’re on.”

  “Very well. I can use a nap after all of this excitement.” Buster paused. “I have made a joke. Did you not enjoy?”

  Tucker just shook his head with a laugh and finished helping Nate.

  “There she is,” Finch said as Rey entered the flight deck in her suit. “How are you feeling?”

  “Like I got punched in the gut, but otherwise fine. Nate is awake,” she replied. “He’s doing really well. Tucker is helping him suit up.”

  “It is amazing,” Sam said. “That technology is eons beyond what we had.”

  “Yet,” Rey said, “Buster said it’s been around for seventy years.”

  “Crazy,” Sam replied. “And there he is…the Androski. Ready for another go through.”

  “Hopefully, we can stop for a while this time.” Rey sat down, placing her helmet on her head. “Did you look at the logbook at all?”

  “Not much, just enough to know that a lot of the ARC passengers left because of the Enforcers. They weren’t killing them but they were around.”

  “They wouldn’t know to shoot them,” Rey said. “They didn’t have the bracelets.”

  “But Nate did,” Sam stated. “He had Tucker’s bag.”

  “So that’s how they found us,” Rey said.

  Finch shook his head. “We found them. They came from the ship.”

  “It’s over though,” Sam stated. “We’re out of there. Onward…” He pointed at the Androski. “To better things.” He smiled. “Hopefully.”

  <><><><>

  Sam reached up to the controls above his head. “Six hundred miles to Earth. She looks beautiful.”

  “That she does,” Finch replied and smiled. “Very blue.”

  The trip through the Androski was seamless. They knew exactly what to do, when to do it, and it was executed like a well-choreographed ballet.

  The only thing they didn’t expect was to emerge to a view that was much like the one they had originally left.

  Finch thought about that when they’d come out on the other side of the wormhole and didn’t see the blue planet.

  “Where is it?” he’d asked. “Anyone? Do you see?”

  “Big blue isn’t there,” Tucker said.

  “Is it maybe where it was at Earth-75?” Finch questioned.

  “Negative commander,” Tucker said. “It’s nowhere visible.”

  “I have eyes on the sky,” said Nate. “Nothing.”

  At that very second, the first thing that had come to Finch’s mind was that they were home.

  Back to the beginning. Back to where they had left.

  Just like that satellite had made its way to Omni’s time, and so did the Omni return.

  That was his hope.

  “Four hundred miles,” Sam said. “We’re on the bright side not able to really see any lights or anything.”

  “Soon enough,” Finch replied. “Let’s set a course to orbit at one hundred and fifty miles, then after full orbit, drop to forty thousand feet to make a landing.”

  “Roger that.”

  Rey leaned forward. “We are landing, right?”

  “At this point,” Finch said, “we orbit or we land. There’s no going back through until we recharge.”

  “Finch?” Sam said his name with question. “I’m getting static. Sounds like a radio transmission.”

  “Put it on the overheard.”

  All that flowed out was crackling and static. It carried on that way for a few minutes then blips of voices cut through. Nothing intelligible.

  “See if you can get it better,” Finch said.

  “I’m trying,” Sam replied.

  Finch nearly held his breath watching Sam try to tweak the signal. Waiting and hoping for something.

  And then…

  “—is Houston. We have you. Go ahead.”

  The entire cabin instantly filled with cheers.

  “They know it’s us,” Finch said confidently. “We’re back.” He raised his hand to bring silence to the cabin and he lifted the radio. Just as he was about to proudly reply, another voice came over the speaker.

  “Yeah, uh Houston, are you seeing anything down there?”

  Finch lowered his hand and looked at Sam. “What the hell?”

  “Sorry, Endeavor can you repeat what you mean?”

  Finch’s eyes widened. “The Endeavor? That was a space shuttle.”

  “Roger that, Houston, do the Russians have anything up here? Over.”

  “That’s a negative, Endeavor.”

  “Well, you guys are gonna think we’re nuts, but…we’re seeing a ship of unidentified origins.”

  “Can you get us a visual, Endeavor?”

  “Roger that we’ll try.”

  Tucker called out, “There. I see it. I see the Endeavor.”

  Sam replied, “They see us.”

  The Houston command spoke again. “We see it. It is not one of ours.”

  “We’re gonna try to make contact with the craft,” the other voice said.

  “Roger that. It’s a go but keep your distance until we identify it.”

  “Roger that.”

  There was silence for a second, then the voice returned. “This is an attempt to reach the unidentified craft. Do you copy?” Pause. “This is Commander Ronald Grabe of the United States Airforce, flying STS-57, on the Endeavor. Do you read?”

  Finch hurriedly turned to Rey. “You’re a history teacher. When was the Endeavor, STS-57?”

  “I…I…don’t know.” She shook her head. “I’m a teacher. I don’t have a database that I can tap into that goes very far back.”

  “Shit.” Tucker rushed to the computer set up by Nate. “We do. Sam and I brought it.” His fingers tapped away on the keyboard.

  The commander of the Endeavor repeated the call. “We are trying to make contact with the unknown craft, can you identify yourself. We are pulling closer and are not a threat.”

  Then suddenly Tucker rambled fast and excitedly, “Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God.”

  “What?” Finch asked.

  Tucker’s eyes widened. “I got it. Space Shuttle Endeavor. Mission STS-57, Commander Ronald Grabe. Finch, that mission launched June twenty-first,” he said, “of 1993. We’re in 1993.”

  Finch stared in shock.

  “Finch?” Sam called his attention. “What do you want to do? Remain on course. Do we respond? Are we landing?”

  “No,” Finch answered without hesitation, and hurriedly reached for the control. “We’re faster. We lose them. We lose them until…until I can figure out what to do.”

  “Roger that, Commander, I couldn’t agree more.” Sam boosted the power on the ship.

  Within seconds they not only lost the communication but had lost sight of the Endeavor, moving back out further from Earth.

  Finch released the breath he held. His heart beat strongly as he stared at planet Earth. There in space, six hundred miles above the earth’s surface, the Omni would stay for a little while. They had to think and act fast. They didn’t have the luxury of time or the option of going back
through the Androski. Collectively as a crew they would try to figure out how they were going to handle the situation, because eventually, like it or not, they had to land in 1993.

  Jacqueline Druga is a native of Pittsburgh, PA. Her works include genres of all types but she favors post-apocalypse and apocalypse writing.

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