The Unlikely Savior (The Unlikely Savior Trilogy)

by T. S. Seley Elliott

  He smiled in resignation and his eyes stayed on her as he leaned down to pick up his case. He let her have this one, but knew she had just made a promise she couldn’t necessarily keep.

  The voices had not only ended their moment, but reminded Johnnie that her time alone with Jeremy was coming to a rapid end. She surprised him by closing the gap between them and grasping his arm.

  “Lookit, Jeremy…we owe at least some explanation to James.” She paused only momentarily, surprising him with, “And I want you to know. The President has a theory…”

  She had barely finished when the door opened, further pushing her toward her apparent destiny.

  _______________________________________________________________

  The President and David Carver joined them in the study. While they obviously weren’t poised for an extended conversation, Wing gestured toward empty chairs as he picked up a phone.

  Johnnie and Jeremy sat as Mr. Carver explained, in rapid succession, how the next twenty or so hours would go down.

  Johnnie would immediately fly to Houston and would receive the “mother of all crash courses” on the bare essentials of what she’d need to know to board and survive the shuttle flight. She would get to Cape Canaveral with enough time to prepare for the flight and meet the other crew members.

  “Remember, Ms. Carter,” Carver told her, “Every other member of this crew has trained for months and some have waited years for this flight. Your joining the crew may not be well received on a personal level – but they are, every one, professionals, and they will get you through.”

  Johnnie was still letting the statement sink in when Jeremy spoke on her behalf,

  “How much will they know about why she’s there?”

  “That the President ordered it, that it is a matter of national defense…this will fall under what we classify as a ‘need to know,’ and frankly, that’s all they need to know. The truth is, we don’t fully know ourselves anyway.” He directed his remaining comments to Johnnie, “There will be strict orders that your identity remain confidential, in fact, the public will not know that anyone has been replaced, at least for the time being. Because you are the same gender, and, oddly, of a similar build to Bonnie Janz, it may go unnoticed tomorrow. To that end, there will be no close up press shots prior and we will minimize press coverage--which shouldn’t be difficult in view of world affairs right now…”

  Johnnie covered her face, “Bonus. Not only will these people hate me for jumping in without the same investment as them, but they also won’t get their moment of glory.” She looked at the men around her, “Great way to make friends and influence people…”

  Jeremy, however, kept his focus.

  “Is it possible for her to learn what she needs to in this limited time?” Although his questions appeared level and professional, he was after all, the family attorney…it was personal concern which drove him to ask.

  Mr. Carver smiled as he said, “Only if she doesn’t plan on sleeping between now and then.” On a more sober note, he added, “I’ve already made the call -- NASA’s experts at the Johnson Space Center are, as we speak, planning her every minute prior to the launch. Obviously, she won’t be able to fly the thing – or actually do anything but ride along, but she’ll be on board, which,” he shot a glance to the President, who was still on the phone, “as I understand, is our only objective. Ironically – or maybe it’s not ironic at all, Bonnie Janz, the person she’s replacing, did not have a mission support role, so we are taking relatively few risks with this swap.”

  His last statement jogged Johnnie’s memory.

  “You said in there that she was a ‘wild card’…and you just said she didn’t have a mission supporting role. I don’t get it. What was her role? How is it that this is such a convenient swap?”

  Wing was off the phone now and had heard the last question. With the same look he’d had upon inception of this plan, he answered, “Call it coincidence, Johnnie, but she was our first-ever astronaut representing the field of spirituality – it was a hard sell initially, but now it seems strangely appropriate, don’t you think?”

  Jeremy exhaled and leaned back in his chair, raising his hands in surrender.

  Johnnie, however, knowing her time was nearly out, voiced a nagging concern. She looked at the men around her, saying, “Lookit…there’s a reason I have Jeremy with me, even though it won’t necessarily stop it. What I’m trying to say is, things happen sometimes and I don’t expect it and don’t usually have warning… What if something happens between now and the launch? I mean, before it’s supposed to? And if it does, I can’t guarantee I’ll even be conscious for all that training…” Jeremy looked at Johnnie, feeling helpless to assist and Carver looked concerned for the first time. It was the President who addressed her questions.

  He stepped to the side of her chair and squatted down so he was eye level. In her life, she’d never seen such dark eyes or such an ardent gaze.

  “Johnnie, I would argue that it all happens exactly when it’s supposed to.” He pointed at Carver with his forefinger and followed with a hitchhiking motion, pointing his thumb back toward the Oval Office. Johnnie knew he was referring to the other three people with whom they’d interacted. “It’s all on course, even if you don’t know the destination. What you need to focus on is belief…just do it, and believe the right things will happen.” He smiled as he stood and squeezed her arm. “Besides, as you so eloquently put it…the stuff just happens anyway, so why not go along for the ride?”

  Johnnie and Jeremy, realizing they would soon part ways looked at each other, but were both at a loss for words.

  Wing spoke to Carver.

  “I authorized you to use Air Force One to get her there and I want an update every hour until launch.” He indicated that it was time to go and everyone stood. Carver pulled Jeremy aside to ensure he understood the entire discussion had been confidential and that he could contact Carver, only, regarding questions or concerns. Jeremy refrained from asking about the propriety of James’ knowledge and involvement; he knew he couldn’t keep the information from his friend and employer, even if he was sworn to secrecy. Fortunately for him, they were all operating in an unknown realm, so there was no precedent to hold him to his promises.

  Johnnie approached the President who was about to open the door. She looked at him, her eyes searching his with concern and fear. The other two were still talking and were just out of earshot. Wing dropped his hand from the door and turned to her, placing his hands on her shoulders.

  She looked into his intense almost-black eyes and softly asked the question that most haunted her.

  “What if it doesn’t work?” Although she still didn’t quite know what “it” was, she knew the stakes were extremely high and soon she would hold all the cards.

  He squeezed her shoulders reassuringly, saying, “Then you get a free ride on the shuttle...” He held her fast and she knew he wasn’t finished. His final soft words sent a chill which started on her scalp, and continued through her body. She would have sworn his eyes flashed as he said so quietly,

  “But what if it does?”

  _________________________________________________________________

  As he rode to the airport, Jeremy felt hopelessly derelict for having left Johnnie’s side. President Liang had offered for him to go with her as far as Houston but once Johnnie was told her “training” would start on the trip itself with electronic tutorials, she told Jeremy he should just go on home. She’d implied that if she wasn’t safe under Presidential care, she wasn’t safe anywhere and she would obviously be busy. He sensed she wasn’t being completely forthright with him, but he also knew that his presence was no longer necessary. He’d said a quick goodbye, not only because they were amongst a crowd of people, but because he didn’t trust his emotions at all, a condition which was new to him.

  His greatest concern should have been that he had to tell James that his sister had been whisked away to outer space…literall
y, but that concern was dwarfed in comparison to his most troubling thoughts.

  Jeremy Christensen was not a selfish person by nature; he’d spent most of his adult life supporting causes and ideals that would benefit others, which is why he teamed with James Cain. Yet now, as he found himself in possibly the greatest effort for the good of mankind in over two thousand years, all he cared about was one person – well, actually, two people. He worried about Johnnie, to the point of anguish, and he was troubled about himself because of her; right or wrong, he was vexed and he could do nothing about it. He wondered at the irony when he realized the last time he’d felt this helpless was in the junior high stairwell so many years ago--the last day he had stuttered and the day he’d first encountered the source of his current infirmity.

  Jeremy did not see the airplanes in various states of take-off and landing, although they were aloft in plain sight as the airport neared. He allowed himself to face his fear, giving way to a sinking feeling that weighted his core. Regardless of how Johnnie saw her role, it was painfully clear that she was in the center of a vortex-- something huge – if not divine, then certainly universal. His entire concentration focused on one question, the one that triggered his most selfish fears of all; were all saviors martyrs?

  If the answer was yes, and had the choice been his alone to let her go…he knew what he would have chosen. It was without shame that he acknowledged his indulgence.

  But the choice hadn’t been his. Wheels were in motion that had begun well before he’d met her…even the first time.

  Once in the airport, he stopped long enough to make a call; for this, a text wouldn’t do. It was time to let James know that his sister’s fate was out of their hands.

  An e-mail notification awoke and startled Wei from a deep sleep distinct to exhaustion-driven power naps. It was midday; he had finally given in to take a late morning snooze. Besides the fact that he’d slept very poorly the night before, the trending emotions of worry, suspense, fear…and an odd bit of excited anticipation, had worn him down leaving him nearly spent.

  He eased up from the recliner, simultaneously reaching for his glasses on a nearby table. His laptop was on the coffee table, but he made a quick detour to prepare a cup of tea, retrieving his computer while the water heated. Glancing at the news, he ascertained the basic headlines had not changed and he was grateful for that; as bad as things were, they hadn’t gotten worse during his brief respite. The clock told him that if Wing had indeed met with Johnnie Carter, their time must certainly be up – but he wasn’t hopeful that the message awaiting would be from his son. Daytime communication was rare and this obviously wasn’t just any day.

  At the table with his finger crooked around the mug handle, the old man used his other hand to operate the computer. Very surprised, but altogether pleased--and apprehensive, he saw that he had indeed gotten an e-mail from Wing’s private account. He said a silent prayer as he opened the message; the subject line simply said, “The Way.” He wondered if it was a play on words as “way” was how his name was pronounced.

  Dad,

  "I don't think the human race will survive the next thousand years, unless we spread into space. There are too many accidents that can befall life on a single planet. But I'm an optimist. We will reach out to the stars." This is a quote from Stephen Hawking and I thought it was appropriate for this note.

  The Revival launch is on for tomorrow morning. I know you wouldn’t want to miss it. Our most precious national resource departs for space at 10:00 A.M. EST…and I’m not talking about the shuttle. Please share with our friends.

  Pray that I used the gift wisely.

  Under the circumstances, the initial paragraph typed by his son’s hand confused even the wise sensibilities of Wei Liang. He too-quickly scanned the second paragraph, still thrown off by the content of the first. It was the last line, however, that affected him like a small electric current. Rereading the entire message, the tingle became a wave and he leaned back, looking up at the skylight in the kitchen ceiling, saying yet another soundless prayer.

  He trusted God and he trusted his son, and he now believed they had placed their trust in the most capable hands he knew. Those hands, much smaller back then, had, after all, saved his life.

  He reached for the phone to speak with Margie Hoffstedder for the second time that day.

  ===========================================================

  While Johnnie had had relatively intense military pre-deployment training, nothing could have prepared her for the fire-hose blast of an indoctrination she received in the coming hours. She was among an elite group of “ordinary” citizens to have had the honor of flying on Air Force One, but it was an experience she would barely remember due to the fact that she was already being programmed via technology, on her way to the more hands-on, or on-body preparation. After arriving in Houston, she had a very brief break as she was transported to the Johnson Space Center training facilities for her true immersion.

  If it hadn’t been so physically and mentally demanding, Johnnie may have felt like Dorothy and her crew in Emerald City as they were curried, groomed and pampered before meeting with the Wizard. The Wizard of Oz image was only fleeting in her mind as she was drilled, poked, prodded and dunked…and exposed to a too-brief shuttle simulation. Since it was an absurd stretch to prepare her for flight in less than twenty four hours, she was primarily exposed to physical checks and simulations, taught, tested and retaught on safety and survival. While she briefly noted that she’d never worked with, or around, such intelligent and professional people in her life, she had few brain cells left to acknowledge anything other than the challenges at hand.

  Maybe on a subconscious level, she was able to subordinate the ever present worries about a premature “situation” arising—she could ill afford a black out incident now…and on an even deeper level, she suppressed her anxiety regarding Jeremy. There was no precedent in her life for how she felt about the unexpected complications he presented; how her first thirty-three years could have left her so unprepared for her current situation, she couldn’t fathom.

  But until the moment she would be strapped in the shuttle for the terminal launch count down, she would not have the luxury of pondering anything other than how to keep her head from exploding via information overload or her body from dropping from exhaustion.

  _____________________________________________________

  Each of Wing’s senses demanded his full attention as the newest information latched onto his gut. His ears were assaulted by the loud chaos around him and his eyes saw satellite video feed of the tactical nuclear strikes assaulting Pakistan. His forehead and upper lip tingled with the formation of sweat; his palms felt damp in the midst of his clasped hands. His nostrils filled with the stench of stale coffee and uneaten food which had been provided to the hub of decision-makers in this pressure cooker called the Situation room. And as the images continued to transfer from his eyes to his brain, he tasted distain and fear.

  India had retaliated first and announced their intent second, accompanied by their call for support from the U.S., Great Britain and the United Nations. He expected to speak with Beresford, who had only just returned to Britain, to confer on the demand and had just been informed that an emergency meeting of the U.N. was pending. Despite the kinetic energy which filled every square inch around him, the President was rooted in his chair.

  His brain operated on its own version of mental Microsoft; with so many “windows” open, he had to overtly activate those of greatest importance and minimize the others. He accessed Johnnie’s “file” as he closed his eyes to remember it as the only real hope. It was about twelve hours until the shuttle launch and he had no idea if that was soon enough or if it would even bear a solution. The hope was not without consequence however; he knew he may have placed the woman in danger – if not physical, then certainly otherwise, whether the plan worked or not. And he knew he couldn’t afford to dwell on either possibility in the interim.<
br />
  “Sir, Prime Minister Beresford is available now.” He switched windows in his mind without comment as he opened his eyes and reached for the secure phone line.

  Approximately sixty feet below ground in the belly of North Dakota, two young Air Force Officers sat in flight suits in the solitary antiquity of a Minute Man III nuclear launch control facility. They were approximately halfway through their twenty-four hour shift and having completed a series of drills and exercises typical of their constant, if not exhaustive preparation for a launch, they looked at the internet coverage of the most recent nuclear strike in Pakistan.

  Martin Posey, the junior officer and younger of the two said, without looking at his comrade, “I didn’t even know what an intercontinental ballistic missile was till they classified me at O.T.S. Crazy. I wanted to be a personnel officer… and nobody wants to be a personnel officer, but they still made me a missileer.”

  Prior to their shift, the pair had driven over two hours through fierce wind and snow along with the enlisted support members who manned the above ground missile alert facility to get to the remote site. Even after all the ensuing hours together, neither had mentioned the high state of alert, world events, or the true nature of their job. Now, with only the hum of equipment in the background and the images before them, reality was difficult to ignore.

  The older officer chose his words carefully.

  “Yeah…not too many of us chose the job; maybe it chose us.” He leaned forward and examined the young lieutenant. What he saw was one who barely looked old enough to shave, yet he was trained and expected to be ready as half of a team who could potentially turn the keys to launch the deadliest of weapons known to man.

  “This system’s entire purpose is peace…we’re here as a deterrence. To prevent the big war…you do get that?”

  The young man, typically cocky and full of life, looked uncharacteristically somber. He answered, sounding more irritated than afraid.