The Other Things

by Jonathan Dransfield

  ‘You sent me to the wilderness, I’ve swapped it for a desert, and my old colleagues encouraged me. It’s an opportunity to see their methods from the inside.’

  ‘Need any protection over there?’

  From the other side of the globe Luther heard Stephen’s strange laugh. ‘No worries, sir, Jiuquan is the deadest place on the planet and there’s guards everywhere and no press at the gates.’

  ‘OK,’ followed the president. ‘What about the safety of the candidates?’

  Sharon broke through. ‘Sharon Frankel here, Mission Programmer. We have them holed up in the Mojave doing their isolation training and we take them in the back way when they go to the JPL.’

  The president pressed the point. ‘I want an absolute news blackout regarding their identities and no blabbing relatives. Can you all achieve that?’

  The president moved onto the project. Stephen was almost enthusiastic when he briefed them on his progress on the lander and the fantastic resources the Chinese had thrown into it. Rocky gave a deadpan delivery on the restoration of the Saturn V and the second rocket being assembled by ESA in Toulouse.

  ‘I’m on the farewell tour this year, so you’ll all get a visit. Focus, guys! We’ve only twelve months or this ain’t gonna happen,’ said Luther.

  Before they signed off, the president addressed Ford. ‘By the way, rent a nice house for Jane in LA. We’ll cover the costs from the security budget. It will get you out of those awful rooms.’

  Sharon couldn’t help herself. ‘Hey, Aunt Naomi’s house is vacant. She’s in a home and looking to rent. It’s a Fifties villa up in Bel Air. All abstract art and modern furniture. Jane’ll love it!’

  ‘Sounds perfect and discreet,’ added Luther as he signed off.

  The president put pen to paper as he gnawed his fruit. He sketched a road, two vanishing lines and then a fork: one leading to the left, one the right. He jotted down a cloud of words above each direction.

  Equal and opposites: science – ignorance; generosity – greed; open mind – closed mind; love – hate; and as he filled the skies above the roads with these laden words he formed his speech around these future choices.

  He reflected on how the asteroid made the world take stock, changing minds and policies, and maybe how each of the problems could be used as an impetus to make things better. As the speech took shape he implored his successors to be positive. Most of all he lauded the Mars project as America being able to do the ‘Big Things’ that make a difference.

  It was a start anyway. He picked up the phone. ‘Could you get me Victor Relish, Belle?’

  He fiddled with the speech, then the line buzzed and it was Victor. ‘I’m honoured, a call from the president himself! How can I help?’

  Luther took a deep breath. He would need to handle this well; he didn’t trust the man. ‘I need you to cut us a little slack, Mr Relish. We have enough trouble getting the project off the ground without the press hounding my people. It’s now got serious and as it’s so precious to me, I’ll take steps if I don’t get co-operation.’

  Victor mulled it over. ‘That sounds like a threat, sir. I don’t interfere with editorial policy.’

  Luther cleared his throat. ‘I am the head of state and the buck stops with me. You are the head of your group and it’s the same. I don’t make threats, just promises. Understood?’

  Luther had a long list of the various licence agreements, government contracts and other business that might unravel if he needed to exert a little more pressure and so did Victor.

  ‘OK, sir, I’ll make sure they keep the dogs off, at least while you’re here. But… I have my own interests to consider, so we won’t be backing it!’

  ‘Thank you, Victor!’

  The president’s stomach gurgled as Marine One took off. His itinerary was hectic. On this last tour of the Union, he was keen to inspect the restoration of ‘Wilson’s’ damage to the Eastern Seaboard, then his treasured rejuvenation projects in the dysfunctional cities throughout the Midwest.

  He was a man of the people and they flocked to see him – except in the high Mojave Desert. As they sped low over the hot landscape the ground pulsed with the pumping of the rotors and, banking around an outcrop, they saw three alien silver cylinders nestled on the desert floor.

  ‘Hey! It actually looks like a moon base!’ shouted the president over the engine noise. The red dust swirling, he stepped out onto the baked ground. Henrietta and Sharon met him, heads ducked as they made their introductions and led him across the bouldered surface to the first of the pods. Luther momentarily stopped to take in the desert.

  The Mojave Desert

  California/Nevada/Utah/Arizona, USA

  35.1N 115.3W

  Altitude: from 279ft below sea level to 11,918ft

  Geology: Rain shadow desert

  Boundless and bare, the sands stretched far into the distance and he considered what he might leave for posterity.

  The three silver pods were splayed out in a tripod shape, limiting the views of their neighbours. From the porthole windows the desert stretched far and wide, and was ever silent except for the howl of the odd coyote and the incessant stutter of the aircon units as they struggled against the baking heat. Apart from the training trips to the JPL, their inhabitants had spent the last three months in ‘The Transit Stage’ – a process aimed to simulate the mental conditions endured on long interplanetary flight. They wouldn’t leave the pods for days and then only for brief forays at night, as if on space walks, tethered and hanging on to the many rails and handles fixed to the smooth aluminium skins and never touching the ground.

  The ‘Exploration Stage’ had, thankfully, just begun with forays into their surroundings. They’d felt ridiculous, dressed in masks and jump suits and always carrying a pack to simulate the cumbersome life support they’d have to wear.

  The president was ushered to the first door.

  ‘What?!’ Eugene cried as it opened, surprised to see a new face. Eugene was reading on his bed, while Virgil rehydrated lunch and Felix was learning geology online. A locker-room smell wafted past as Eugene stuffed his scattered clothes beneath the mattress. He recognised their visitor.

  Luther reeled back outside. ‘Has a dog died in there?’ Then bravely taking a fresh lungful, he re-entered and sat with the old astronauts, chewing the fat about their past space exploits.

  He breathed a sigh of relief as he finally re-emerged into the sunlight.

  The party made the transfer to the next pod. It looked mighty familiar. ‘Henrietta, where the hell did you get these things?’

  She laughed, ‘Verner Bros studio! You know the space epic that flopped last year?’

  ‘You mean The Final Frontier with Michel Angelo?’

  ‘That’s the one! Renamed The Final Curtain… They were only too happy to let these go… Obviously, no chance of a sequel…’

  Henrietta put her head through the second door. All was in sweet-smelling order. She proudly announced, ‘Ladies, we have company!’

  ‘Only women in here!’ Kirsten called tetchily over her shoulder as she pounded on the exercise machine. Soraya’s head bucked to her music as she worked on the computer and Su-lin was reading.

  ‘Hello there!’ Luther stepped over the threshold.

  They froze; that voice was unmistakable. One of his many charms was a voice that could melt chocolate. ‘Luther Garvey,’ they whispered.

  This felt calmer, more ordered and certainly more fragrant. ‘So, Su-lin, how does all this compare to your own space agency?’

  Su-lin thought hard. ‘Less disciplined but… more fun!’

  ‘I don’t suppose Iceland…?’

  Kirsten laughed as she replied, ‘Only in that crazy museum!’

  He turned to Soraya. ‘I’ve seen you at the White House. How come you’re here?’

  She looked him straight in the face. ‘I’m the best driver you’ll meet and cool at mechanics. Besides, DC’s getting boring, so what the hell?’

&nbs
p; Luther turned back to Su-lin. ‘So you’re the “Bones” and a pilot?’

  ‘Bones? Ah, you mean medic. I’m a flying doctor.’

  ‘Plane or helicopter?’

  ‘And autogyros,’ she replied.

  ‘Wow! Well, you only live once.’

  Luther took in the cabin. His Oval Office desk seemed bigger. ‘And, Kirsten, as well as your love of practical jokes, you’re the scientist?’

  ‘Sir, no one in Iceland actually likes practical jokes – that’s the joke! I’m a volcanologist and expedition organiser.’

  Luther tried to picture them on the planet and wondered if they’d still be so calm and measured after eight months in space. Their determined natures reassured him. ‘Maybe,’ he thought.

  He walked close to Henrietta after leaving the pod, their two figures casting long shadows on the ground.

  ‘Wouldn’t you like to join them, Henrietta?’

  ‘Do you think I’m mad, sir? I haven’t finished with this planet yet!’ She ushered him forward. ‘This is the kids’ pod. Let’s surprise them!’

  As they crossed the ‘airlock’, there was a monotonous thudding coming from within and raised voices.

  ‘Stop the racket! I’m trying to think!’ Enza shouted at Mo as he practised catching a tennis ball against the side of the hull.

  ‘Leave him be!’ shouted Buzz, defending his right to a bit of exercise.

  ‘Shut up, you’re annoying too!’ Elin snapped.

  Mo tossed the tennis ball in a slow loop at her head. ‘Catch!’

  She whacked it back with venom. ‘You’ll be chasing your balls all over Mars, if you don’t watch it!’

  The ball ricocheted hard off Bheki’s head, as the door swung open. It’s a little known fact that every elected president has been good at sports. Even President Roosevelt represented his country in the 1936 Paralympics in Berlin. Luther’s figure filled the doorframe, the ball hurling towards his nose. In a flash he deftly intercepted the missile and slipped it into his pocket.

  ‘Il Presidente!’ Enza stopped dead. ‘You tell him, stop it! He’s got to listen to you!’ she implored.

  Henrietta was mortified. ‘I’m so sorry, sir, they’re usually as good as gold!’

  ‘Ah, just like a real family – no problems here!’ laughed the head of state.

  Spending time with each of them, the president listened intently.

  Bheki was working on designs for a Martian bike.

  Xing had been racing Buzz on his flight game.

  Enza had been making ravioli with the sage Bheki had been growing.

  Elin showed him some earthly rock formations, which looked strangely like the ones she was studying of the Martian surface.

  Mo, when not practising his cricket, had been researching exotic life and early soft-bodied fossils, familiarising himself with animals that might resemble the Martian photographs.

  Luther studied the pictures with fascination. He took a shine to the boy. He was a ‘first’ American president in many things and one of them was an appreciation of cricket. His grandpa Constantine had come from Grenada and had shown the young Luther how to catch against a wall, just like Mo.

  Nibbling on the pasta, Luther then spoke to the children. They huddled up around him; it looked like Uncle Remus had descended to tell his fables. Rather than cautionary tales he told them the reasons why he’d considered sending them on this dangerous mission.

  ‘I meet many, many people and the younger they are the more enthusiasm they have for new ideas as well as a faith in the future. My jaded generation’s just waking up to the damage we’ve caused. Our salvation lies in the dreams of our youth. If they’re inspired by your exploration of another planet, they might believe we can save our own. It will be a very grand thing.’ Then he gave some pearls of wisdom. ‘Keep up with the training and don’t forget your homework!’

  The children stepped up and gave him a hug.

  ‘Also, never accept sweets from strangers!’ He winked as he slipped them each a bag of savoury snacks.

  As he bade them farewell he tossed the ball to Mo, just like his grandfather might have done.

  ‘They’re amazing kids. How’d they keep in touch with their parents and schooling?’

  Sharon joined them as they emerged. ‘We have tutors and they talk to their families all the time, but every day we add slightly greater time delay in the conversations. It’s just a few minutes now, but it trains them to deal with the transmission pauses.’

  Luther needed to talk to Sharon and asked Henrietta and his bodyguards give them some space.

  ‘I think we’re safe enough here.’

  He scuffed the ground as he walked, kicking the parched tufts of hardy grass that patiently waited for the rains to come.

  ‘You won’t find this on Mars. Have you been to a real sand desert? I remember walking on the edge of the Sahara. It felt like being on a small boat on an endless ocean. It was scary.’

  ‘It serves its purpose, sir. It’s dry, isolated and close enough to do the rest of the training at the JPL. There’s also cinder cones and lava tubes within a day’s hike. They’re just like ones we’ve seen on Mars.’

  Luther wasn’t here to talk volcanoes. ‘Are we crazy considering those kids?’

  They sat on two smooth red boulders while she mulled over the question. The cloudless sky held the thinnest of crescent moons, gorgeously close to the bright jewel of Venus as they set in the gold and blue afterglow. Although the day’s heat still hugged the ground, the night air was cooling fast.

  Sharon pulled her grey NASA hoodie around her as she replied, ‘The men are seasoned astronauts but struggle with the science. The women are doing pretty well all round, and the kids… well, they are actually holding their own. They squabble a bit and need the guidance of their parents, but they are surprisingly resourceful and they’re having fun, even in this isolation.’

  ‘So, it’s not that crazy?’

  She looked up at the sky again. ‘Yes, of course it’s crazy, but it’s not stupid. We shall see… Did you know Venus is bright enough to cast shadows in a dark place like this?’

  Bang! Bang! Bang!

  Her musing was brought short by the sound of what she thought were fire crackers behind them.

  Luther had dreaded this sound. He flinched at all unexpected noises. He turned and dived, pushing her to the deck beside him. ‘Quick, behind the rocks – that’s gunfire!’

  As they shuffled back, the president’s brain was overloading with dire possibilities and plans of action. They saw three men in the distance firing in the air, and flashes and sparks streaming off some invisible object. There was a high-pitched squeal and an oncoming ‘whoosh’ as they picked out the target. It seemed as if some gigantic injured spider was spinning towards them. It could be anything, though nothing good.

  Luther placed himself protectively across Sharon and shouted ‘Brace!’ as the object screamed, hitting the ground a mere 10 yards away and clattering along the rock-strewn ground.

  The president slowly raised his head as the dust settled, peering at the stricken object, two of its rotors still spinning. It was a broken camera drone, and on the bottom was a small sticker: ‘Property of PURE CORP. Reward for return if found.’

  ‘It’s a goddamn drone!’ he reassured Sharon as he hauled himself to his feet. The sprinting bodyguards arrived hollering, then gingerly approached the stricken article for closer examination.

  Manny Black and his companion were eventually allowed into the sumptuous office of the head of the Pure Corporation. ‘How can I help you? I trust there’s nothing wrong. I’m at your service…’ Victor Relish oozed obsequious platitudes to the agent.

  ‘No. I’m here to serve something on you.’ Manny placed a subpoena on Victor’s endless chrome and leather desk. The embossed document sat accusingly among the alabaster paperweights and staged, silver-edged family photographs.

  Numerous sensitive scenarios flashed through his mind as Victor scanned th
e document. He burst out laughing when he read the indictment of breaking air traffic regulations, pertaining to drones.

  ‘This is ridiculous. Get out of my office! The legal department’s on the 12th floor.’

  Manny took a deep breath. ‘Mr Relish, we have reason to believe that you are responsible for an unmanned aircraft to be flown in such a way to endanger the President of the United States, and as such I shall be sequestrating your personal computers and you will allow my colleague here access to any company files, databases, messages or emails that he may need to help us in our investigations.’

  Victor was furious. ‘Listen, we send out drones all the time to gather information, there’s no law against it!’

  Manny smiled. ‘This is no poor celeb in a swimming pool. You nearly dropped it on the president.’

  ‘Dropped it? Dropped it? You shot it down!’

  ‘It could have been carrying a bomb, so it was a risk. I’m afraid you chose the wrong target for your cameras this time!’ Manny started un-hooking Victor’s laptop on the desk.

  ‘You can’t do that. We’d had a tip off about a secret training base – how did we know he’d be there?’

  ‘Bad luck…’ replied Manny as he placed the laptop in an evidence bag. ‘I’ll leave you with my friend here and I’m sure you’ll be helpful.’

  Victor froze for a moment, mentally checking on the secrets encoded on the Pentium chips and flash drive of his Sinclair ZX810.

  The door shut firmly behind Manny with a thud.

  Chapter 24

  Beverly Hills

  Ford and Jane Dancing

  ‘And what did Sharon’s auntie do?’ quizzed Jane as she strode round the wood-veneered walled living room.

  ‘Costumes! Made a fortune out of costumes. They rebuilt this place in the 1950s when her uncle was teaching at the new university.’ Ford was following her.

  ‘And look at the views!’ Jane swung her arm imperiously across the immensity of the full-height windows. ‘They certainly picked their spot.’ She turned quickly into his path. Picking up his arms she whisked him away in a mock waltz. ‘What parties they must have had. All those famous actors!’