The Other Things

by Jonathan Dransfield

  ‘Lost in Space? Just how encouraging d’you think that is? What about Apollo 13 or Alien? Let’s get them really excited!’

  Ford scratched his head. ‘OK, it’s The Wizard of Oz then!’ Butterflies fluttered in his stomach as he organised the drinks and glasses. This was the last big get-together before the end of the training. The president was going to join them, albeit on a video link. ‘Keep calm,’ he told himself. ‘After all, what could possibly go wrong?’

  The guests arrived in waves, and soon the old house was brimming with chatter and people again. The party was exclusive to the mission team, the would-be astronauts, their mentors and trusted partners. To Ford’s great pleasure, the head of NASA, Mike Hermes, made a surprise appearance. Ford, now dressed in a black-collared mustard shirt with old suit trousers tucked into his flying boots, escorted him around the premises, introducing him to old colleagues and new faces alike.

  Alim, in dressing gown and towel, particularly hit it off with him, with a mutual interest in hiking the Canadian Rockies and the best curry houses in LA. ‘It is the most unassuming place, you know, but the food… fantastic.’

  Hermes nodded. ‘That’s down in Inglewood… wonderful. By the way, why are you here? You’re not one of the usual faces?’ Alim checked Ford’s furrowed features for permission.

  ‘Well, I’m under strict confidentiality, you know… but as the top “bod” you must have clearance. I’m a hanger-on! My son’s a candidate and I support the little chap in his science. There’s a few of us: Elisabetta’s here for Enza, and Zulu for Bheki.’

  Mike took a sip of his very dry Martini. ‘Ahh! “The Other Things.” You’re their avatars, or it is the other way round?’

  Alim laughed raucously. ‘Well, I’m not tall or blue but I have a big nose!’

  Ford escorted Mike towards the pool, down the concrete steps beside the lush fronds of crimson bougainvillea. He was hoping to introduce Kirsten, but she appeared to have vanished. As his eyes searched the scattered conversing couples, the lights seemed to dim, like a dark cloud passing over the sun. A chill wind blew over the house as the unmistakable drawl of a black-clad Stephen Dyer broke the silence.

  ‘At least you’ve got rid of those kids!’ Stephen had missed the children in the games room, where The Wizard of Oz was weaving its magic. He insinuated himself between Ford and Mike.

  ‘Stephen Dyer, the only sane man on the team!’ He proffered a hand to the head of NASA as he fixed him squarely in the eye.

  ‘Ah, you’re Stephen. I’ve heard you have been doing wonders with our allies in the Far East.’ Stephen took this compliment as his opportunity to skilfully usher Mike away from Ford, engaging him in his deep misgivings about the project and its management.

  Ford suppressed his irritation and decided to leave them to it. He checked out the temporary cinema to see six beaming faces lit in the colourful flicker of a strange world somewhere over the rainbow. He softly closed the door and made his way to the upper level where he hoped to catch up with Jane. People were tucking into food – especially Su-lin, who was demolishing the neatly stuffed olives. Eugene and Felix, in their light-blue uniforms with brightly coloured sashes, were mixing cocktails and raucously encouraged Ford to down their new invention, a ‘Venus and Mars’. They were preparing for years of sobriety by making up for it now.

  Ford politely nodded to Edward Crumb standing alone in the kitchen, before having a quick word with Sharon and Elisabetta, who reported seeing Jane retreating upstairs with an emotional Kirsten.

  The open mahogany treads creaked slightly as he made his way to the first floor, and he stopped on the landing for fear of disturbing a delicate moment.

  Kirsten hadn’t slept soundly for days. An anxiety had gripped her guts and twisted her mind into paroxysms of doubt. The intermittent sobs were being soothed by Jane’s soft tones, as she opened her heart.

  ‘I can’t abandon her again, not for two years! I’ve spent enough time away already!’

  Jane quizzed, ‘But what if she’s chosen? What’s the difference?’

  Kirsten sniffed. ‘It’s a big difference, I’m her mother! I can still support her on the mission and children must all fly the nest at some time – it would be her big adventure, not just an absentee parent putting herself first again!’

  ‘Are you sure? You’ve worked on this for so long.’

  ‘I’m not sure, I’m confused. I don’t want to let everyone down.’

  Ford stood stock still, listening transfixed but not wanting to interrupt. He then heard Jane’s decisive tones.

  ‘Let everyone down? Don’t be ridiculous. No one can force you to go. Do what you think is right.’

  Kirsten wiped away the tears. ‘I’m sorry, I thought I was the tough one!’

  Jane then spoke more wise words. ‘Listen, my love. You are tough to admit it, it’s natural. Even the guys are nervous, that why they’re getting hammered down there. Just do what you think is right.’

  Feeling betwixt and between, Ford decided to retreat while he considered the prospect of one of the team options evaporating before him.

  The strains of ‘Born Slippy’ wafted up the steps as he descended. The beat had drawn a few guests onto the floor in the living room. Eugene and Felix had abandoned their makeshift bar and held the centre of the parquet. Felix was dancing like an uncle at a wedding, while Eugene grinningly encouraged Yasmin and Soraya to join them.

  Glancing at his watch, Ford realised the time. ‘Argghh! The president’s going to make his call in 15 minutes – must get the crew together.’ He shot down to the basement where, in the movie, Dorothy was finally coming home.

  ‘Hey, kids! Upstairs in the lounge in 10 minutes.’ He hurriedly made a circuit of the pool to tell an intense Stephen and an exhausted-looking Mike Hermes the same message.

  Sharon and her partner followed Ford up the steps, back into an unfolding mayhem. The dance floor was a scene of carnage. Eugene had fallen over a glass-topped Burmese coffee table, while executing his best Travolta move. Soraya, in her white singlet and olive jumpsuit, looked as happy as a snowball in a barbecue.

  ‘Get your hand off my butt, fella!’

  Felix stood stock still, hands in the air as ‘Thinking Out Loud’ reached its inevitable climax. All eyes turned to the pair. Soraya, hands on hips, looked Felix square in the eyes.

  ‘Did I give you permission, man? Did I send you any “Put your hand on my butt signals”? NO… way!’

  Felix stood hands outstretched, protesting his innocence like a footballer on a second yellow card. Luckily the glass of Blue Nun Soraya poured over his head was not a great vintage.

  The TV screen suddenly broke into life, freezing the scene.

  The president’s calm face beamed out as Ford hurriedly helped Eugene up from the pool of broken glass.

  Jane stood in the background with a red-eyed Kirsten, while the kids trooped in looking bewildered. Luther’s oversized visage frowned quizzically as he took everything in.

  Ford was brushing the glass off Eugene’s back. Felix’s hair was dripping with wine and Soraya was glowering. Kirsten turned away to hide her tears and gripped Jane’s shoulder.

  At which point Stephen, oblivious of Luther’s video presence, waded angrily through the crowd. Towering over the innocent kids, he bellowed to the four walls. ‘Why the hell are you still here?!’

  He was abruptly silenced when the disembodied voice of Luther came over the cherry-wood speakers. ‘Good evening. Hum! Quite a party you’re having…’ His wide eyes scanned the room. ‘Hi, young’uns! At least you know how to behave.’ The tension was broken by six high-pitched voices.

  ‘Good evening, Mr President!’

  Luther’s broad smile broke back across the screen. ‘Hello, Bheki. How’s it going?’

  Bheki read his lips intently and replied, ‘Watching an awesome movie, sir, about a dog called Toto.’

  ‘Ah, Toto, now that’s one of my favourites… So tell me, what would you seek over the ra
inbow?’

  Bheki smiled. ‘A home and a dog, like Dorothy.’

  The large brown eyes fixed on Stephen. ‘And you, Stephen, what do you seek?’

  Stephen squinted towards Ford. ‘Organisation and order, sir!’

  ‘A rather scarce commodity tonight!’

  The president continued to work around the transfixed figures.

  ‘… And you, Ford?’

  Ford closed his eyes and replied, ‘More time, Luther!’

  The president’s eyes alighted on Kirsten’s back. ‘Is that Kirsten?’

  She turned.

  ‘What would you seek?’

  Kirsten pulled herself together. ‘Nothing… A little peace of mind, maybe.’

  ‘Well, Bheki. Home is empty without the people you share it with.’

  Bheki looked along the line of his new friends and felt maybe he did belong somewhere.

  ‘But you won’t find a dog on Mars. Maybe a rover! Stephen, you’ll never find what you want without seeking harmony. Ford, there’s never enough time, it’s all relative.’ Then he returned to Kirsten. ‘Kirsten, my advice? We all worry too much. Do what you think is right!’ Then he laughed, ‘And, Felix, I think you’re in need of a towel.’

  The president addressed each of the other would-be crew members before signing off as the screen returned to a blaze of dancing static.

  This house had never seen a greater party, although the stuffed olives left a lot to be desired.

  Chapter 27

  The Equipment Is Coming Together

  As the northern hemisphere approached its annual maximum tilt away from our sun, the voters’ inclinations had also swung in the definite direction of Peggy Tyler. The razzmatazz of the campaigning over, the voters punched or dropped their ballot papers like the falling autumn leaves.

  No scrutinising of hanging chads would affect this result. Peggy, backed by the massive media empire of the Pure Corporation, was going to have a landslide victory.

  Her homespun messages of austerity and cost-cutting had hit a chord. As Luther predicted, there was no way the mission would survive if it hadn’t left the planet by 20 January, the date of her inauguration.

  The launch was thus set for 17 January, giving three days to assemble the parts of rocket in orbit before blasting off past the dark side of the moon and onwards for the greatest adventure in the history of humanity. Luther knew that once it was outward bound, it would be almost impossible to recall.

  The two rockets now stood proud and erect, ready to be trundled out to their respective launch pads. Who would sit on top of them was still open, but the smart money would be on ‘The Elves’ – the women’s team. They had performed solidly and professionally in all the tasks and Kirsten’s expertise provided a sound scientific base.

  The trouble was, she was still fighting against that inner voice which nagged away at her resolve. The training amplified the seed of doubt, which grew and blossomed as the departure date grew ever closer. She bore it until it felt like all the burdens of the world were heaped on her shoulders. Gritting her teeth, she carried on.

  From the very start Ford had felt an affinity with Kirsten and wanted to do anything to support her. He asked Jane to work with her, hoping she could offer some support and solidarity.

  In Jane, Kirsten found a kindred spirit who slowly patched up her psyche. Jane was also mentoring Buzz and working on the landing site exploration, which enabled them to work together on the planet’s geology. They both spent hours scrutinising 3D images of Martian landscapes and volcanic features, looking for an oasis that could still shelter some spark of life.

  Oblivious to Kirsten’s doubts, Elin was in turn the recipient of her mother’s coaching. Kirsten had never spent so much concentrated time with her daughter, transferring her knowledge of science and survival skills. Soon Elin’s mind was full of red rocks and planetary geology, all as vivid to the young girl as a first compelling novel.

  To a child, adults appear larger than life. Not just physically bigger, but akin to a sensory experience: the whiff of perfume or tobacco, the touch of rough skin, the boom of deeper voices and an air of being in a far away, complex world, where they have all the answers.

  Elin would feel immensely comforted by the simple fall of her mother’s hair from behind her ear, the sudden tensing of her tattoos as they scrutinised a laptop screen, or the catch of Kirsten’s eye or a little pinch to her ribs if she mentally wandered off.

  These small intimacies were repeated for all the children as they worked with their closest familiars. Their mentors had also formed a tight group. Kirsten, Jane, Elisabetta, Alim, Su-lin and, of course, Zulu, who were not only mentoring the would-be ‘space cadets’ but themselves learning the art of being virtual astronauts in case the kids were chosen.

  Who would be chosen? To objectively resolve the issue, the mission planners, Henrietta, Yasmin and Edward, had devised a complex computer program with more parameters than a neural network. For the whole duration of the selection they assiduously uploaded the data as the results and evaluations came in.

  They were a strange trio, each quite different in their outlooks and disciplines. Edward, socially stunted, was shy and introspective and would have died rather than reveal his inner feelings. Instead he tried to impress with his exactitude and thoroughness in the task. He was convinced his role in Safety and Departmental Assurance Manager – SaDAss – gave him a greater authority than the others.

  Edward ‘The Passion Killer’ Stalk had stymied more projects with his statistical analysis than a nun running a hen party.

  Stephen was sure that Edward was the trump card against ‘The Other Things’ ever being chosen.

  Ford felt a great sense of achievement as he took in ESA’s massive assembly building. Situated on the wooded coastal plain of French Guiana, it wasn’t a bad place to be in December. The summer breezes of the southern tropics shimmered the palms, with their heady hint of warm spice, as he marvelled at the extraordinary contraption before him.

  Kourou, French Guiana

  5.1N 52.4W

  Altitude: 50ft

  Geology: Coastal plain – alluvial deposits

  Pierre, his guide, was beside him as they worked their way up the gantries to study the intricate network of spiral latticed ribs which formed the central cradle that held the rockets. Pierre tapped his nose. ‘I love – ’ow you say – the contrast. The “high tech” and the ancient.’

  Milt’s six refurbished solid rocket boosters, strapped around the lattice, had the countenance of veteran military equipment. Three were fixed at the bottom and three towards the top. They were still being repainted as the pair admired them.

  ‘They look like they mean business, mon ami! The blue ones get us off Earth and the rouge to Mars.’

  ‘Blue for Earth and red for Mars?’

  ‘Exactement!’

  ‘What’s that bottom unit?’

  Nestled within the bottom section was a short silver rocket.

  ‘That’s for the final push into orbit. Your rockets are like brutes! They keep on burning like a firework. We need a small, controllable rocket to get things exact, like the shuttle’s engine.’

  The lower solid rockets would be jettisoned as the vehicle left the atmosphere and the upper rockets would then propel it into the depths of the solar system.

  Compared with those old workhorses, the lattice cage was a perfect jewel of modern engineering: precise, shiny and pared to the bone. Ford pointed to the silver stage.

  ‘So, we remove that in space to make room for the crew’s quarters and return rocket?’

  Pierre jokingly punched Ford in the arm. ‘If they fit! Remember, we work in metres, not feet, you know.’

  ‘Don’t you worry, our trusty Saturn V will deliver them safe and sound and they will be as snug as a bug!’

  Pierre was glowing with pride. He raised his arm and pointed to the far end of the contraption. ‘Celui est formidable! Regardez, we received the lander from China. It�
�s up there, you know.’

  They both gazed intently at the pristine delicacy of the landing vehicle which crowned the edifice. It was like something from another world. It was both the lightest and most intricate object they had ever seen. Three sections of its cylindrical skin had unfurled to reveal the revolutionary solar panels.

  Ford stared up beyond the galvanised grillage to see a bevy of technicians testing them.

  ‘They don’t look big enough.’

  ‘These are – ’ow you say – extraordinaire! It’s amazing the power you can get out of these babies.’

  ‘They’re tiny, how they do it?’

  ‘Pure accident! We tried a film of graphene to reduce the glare off the glass. Bang! It blew all the fuses.’

  Ford scratched his head. ‘Doesn’t that just block the light more?’

  Pierre made a small gesture with his hand, indicating something very, very small. ‘Ah no, my friend, the thin carbon layer forms a diffraction grating and the light acts as a wave, not a particle! It all literally condenses on the receptor. It doubles the power, naturellement!’

  Ford thought of all the inventions attributed to the space race. ‘Even more useful than Velcro?’

  The French man intuitively checked the immaculate cut of his trousers. ‘Who has the need of the Velcro, mon ami?’

  What a long journey it had been: from the old observatory where ‘Wilson’ had illuminated the night sky to assembling these amazing machines. The only question now was, who was going to sit in the small conical capsule at the top of the edifice?

  Chapter 28

  The Crew Are Chosen

  On the Gantry

  Soraya couldn’t believe it. From an idle moment when she filled out a form for an impossible dream, to the point where she was actually going into space.

  In stunned amazement she’d heard her named called out with Su-lin and Eugene. Without a moment to lose, they were immediately whisked off by private jet to Cape Canaveral where the fully restored Saturn V waited in cryogenic splendour. Soraya was so nervous that her knee jiggled manically all the way, drumming out an adrenaline beat on the hollow floor of the aircraft. Her stomach churned and her mind raced in a cacophony of thoughts. She ran though her duties and training, peppering them with fears of explosions, decompressions and asphyxiation.