The Unlikely Savior (The Unlikely Savior Trilogy)

by T. S. Seley Elliott

  “How could I miss it? It permeates our whole training and culture…our wing motto is ‘Poised for Peace,’ for God’s sake. But it doesn’t seem to make a difference to them.” He looked back at the monitor showing the results of the Indian and Pakistani strikes on one another.

  “And their beef isn’t with us. Besides, it’s not our job to evaluate and decide when or if we execute our duties.” He paused then said, “I have to ask you now…” He stopped to ensure he had his subordinate’s full attention. The other man looked at him, eyebrows raised.

  “What?”

  “Are you ready and able to do whatever your duty requires? Remember what the oath says…without reservation…and so on?” Captain Don Aguirre had spent hundreds of hours in training and in launch control facilities just like this one, but this is the first time he’d had this precise conversation. Ignoring his own nagging concerns, he hoped it was the last such discussion.

  Lieutenant Posey eyed the captain, unaware that he had bowed up just a bit at the suggestion that he may be derelict when duty called. He caught himself, however, acknowledging that the captain’s question was timely and had actually acknowledged his most prominent thoughts. He exhaled and looked down as the captain added, “Remember what our country expects…and why you chose to serve. That works for me.” Aguirre rested his case and leaned back, giving Posey his space. The younger man squared his shoulders and lifted his head, nodding.

  “Yes. I’m ready.” Then the Martin Posey that Aguirre was more accustomed to suddenly snapped back with a grin, slapping the captain’s back with, “I was born ready.”

  Aguirre was ready to ease the tension as well; in this isolated environment, all emotions seemed to be magnified, especially after the sixth or seventh hour of confinement.

  “Good…my arms ain’t long enough to reach across to cover your sorry ass and do your job too. Besides…there are forty-five holes just like this one, controlling 150 missiles. If our number happened to be the first one ever to come up in over fifty years of operation, we probably should have headed to Vegas instead of the missile field. Those are pretty gnarly odds.”

  Posey reached for the phone to call above ground for some dinner. He, nor his cohort, had any indication that the dice were in the air as they spoke.

  After hearing from Jeremy earlier in the day, James decided to work at home, knowing his friend would come straight from the airport to his place. His initial reaction to the fact that Johnnie was staying in Washington D.C. was abrupt and for the second time that week, he’d raised his voice to his trusted friend regarding the care of his sister. But Jeremy’s response had shut him down.

  “Do you think for one minute I’d have chosen to leave her there, or leave her at all? There was no choice.” His voice had sounded strained with the last words and James knew his friend had done all he could and, for the first time, sensed Jeremy was emotionally vested in the situation – far more than he’d realized. James had further forced his brain to override his heart, remembering that he, himself, had pushed his sister to seek this path; when he combined that factor with the President’s likely influence, he knew Jeremy had done his job and now he needed to do his. He needed to be a friend.

  As he worked and awaited Jeremy’s return, the nagging thought that he may have sacrificed his sister to his own beliefs left him with an uncharacteristic rawness of nerves. It was only after Jeremy arrived and, clearly torn by the turn of events, told him the rest of the story, that James knew he needed to gather the others to discuss the possibilities. It was that, or go crazy.

  James asked Jeremy to stay and invited Paul and Sylvia for a late dinner, urging them to change whatever plans they had for that evening to make the engagement. James had always dealt with his emotions by activating his brain and imagination; this habit had served him well and he had never felt a stronger need to follow that practice than on this day. He felt a little guilty not including his mother in the gathering, but suspected her presence would be a hindrance under the circumstances.

  Last to arrive, Paul Leo walked in the living room, finding a despondent Betsy on the floor with Sylvia Post; Sandy was freshly showered and on the couch, but looking no better for the wear – Jeremy, in workout clothes, stared absently out the window. James shooed Leo into the kitchen to help set the table, having personally prepared the meal.

  “Did you invite me for dinner or to run a therapy session?” Paul asked quietly, but not without humor, as he retrieved five plates from the cupboard. “I’d have to charge you top dollar for that group…with the exception of Sylvia, they look a little rough. Dog included.”

  James looked as though he could use a little counseling himself, but assured Paul that this was a personal venture and he wouldn’t have to use his skills unless his conscience called. He also gave the psychologist a private assessment of what he suspected troubled the men, adding that Sylvia had apparently become Betsy’s surrogate; the dog had pined for Johnnie all day.

  As they sat around the table, James passed a bottle of wine and glanced at the clock.

  “I guess she’s still in Houston or maybe headed to Florida…the launch is scheduled at Cape Canaveral for ten in the morning.” He had spared Jeremy the burden of repeating Johnnie’s upcoming venture, personally passing on the story to the attentive listeners. Sandy, having slept most of the afternoon, only just heard the news himself. He had also been unaware of the latest violence overseas, in which this, of all groups, found particular significance. He ate very gingerly, not trusting his stomach as it was – although it was less the illness and more nerves at work now.

  “Why does it feel like the train has left the station…and on a collision course? You all really believe this is all related?” This was the first time he wondered what he had gotten himself into since his abrupt move and joining of forces with Johnnie Carter.

  “Apparently it’s not just us…According to Mr. Liang, so does the President. Let me tell you what the Hoffstedders unearthed.”

  James was seeking order in chaos and he hoped his friends would help. He shared all of the details of how as a child, through the course of family travels, Johnnie had unwittingly had contact with the most prominent of the President’s inner circle. As the information fell into place, Jeremy suddenly realized the significance of the envelope he had personally given her on the airplane. If it were possible for him to feel even more responsible for her fate, it happened at that moment. The envelope contents were likely the impetus for the President to take the incredibly questionable direction of putting Johnnie on the space shuttle. He spoke up for the first time.

  “So, they all bought in on sending an innocent civilian into orbit as our world catapults into one big nuclear war zone.” He worked to control his emotion, opting to pick up his glass rather than a fork. His jaw was set as he stared into the deep red liquid, not looking at any one in particular. He had never been so frustrated or frightened in his life and it had nothing to do with the prospect of war.

  “She told you the President’s idea…” James said to his troubled friend, then directed his next comment to the group. “She explained to Jeremy that President Liang has a postulation...” He stopped for a moment, torn between intellectual discussion and forthright begging. He desperately wanted to believe this was all happening for real and right reasons. Jeremy had mechanically passed on Wing’s conjecture earlier that day. James now shared it with those around the table. Sandy was the first to speak when he had finished.

  “Are you shitting me?” The big man laughed and pushed his plate away. “So, by flying her ‘over’ the world, she’s supposed to conjure up some power and save it? She weighs 110 pounds soaking wet… and she’s going to manufacture what it takes to save Mother Earth...” He shook his head, not sure whether to laugh or cry. “And those other Holy Rollers bought off on this?”

  “Wait...” Sylvia, who appeared to still be processing the information, raised a hand. “He said belief was a key factor…and that was the key thing
Johnnie lacked. At least before…” She looked at James.

  James spoke to no one in particular, thinking as he spoke.

  “She must have had a change of heart if she went along with this. Sounds like she’s doing this willingly.”

  “You know what the Bible says about faith and the mustard seed…and she definitely has uncommon power at her disposal – which was incredibly effective even without her faith…just imagine if…” She had a look of wonder on her face. But Sandy, the clear naysayer, interrupted, “Just for the sake of argument, did it ever occur to you that maybe she’s doing this in attempt to fulfill something for her country that she wasn’t able to finish in uniform? I could understand that…I had to leave the Army before I was done, and I think she felt the same way of her service. I’m just saying…”

  “That’s a great point, and it may have helped her make the decision – but she’s too responsible to do this, particularly for the President, if there wasn’t more to it. Jeremy – did it seem like she was resigned to this, or doing it out of obligation? Sylvia, I think you’re onto something.” James looked from Sandy, to Jeremy to Sylvia; his mind flew.

  Jeremy knew he needed to pull himself out of his self-absorbed funk; he cleared his throat, seriously considering James’ question. He had only known Johnnie for a short time, but he thought he knew the answer.

  “She joked about it a little, but…” He closed his eyes and recalled the conviction in hers. She’d had an energy he hadn’t previously sensed when she’d told him about the President’s ideas.

  “Even though she didn’t fully understand what was expected….yeah,” He lifted his head and nodded soberly. “I think she believed it was the right thing. I think she was all in…”

  He hated the words, but they also gave him an element of confidence he hadn’t felt before. Among his other emotions regarding this woman, he felt a strong degree of respect and trust. He exhaled and looked James in the eye.

  “She knew what she was doing.”

  Paul spoke up, “If you combine the President’s theory with Quantum Physics – well…” He unconsciously shook his head as if in a shudder, “…my God.”

  He’d lifted a hand in thought with his leading statement and his last words seemed to stick it in the air. He finally lowered it onto the table and looked at the others, saying. “Anything is possible. Everything is possible. With her power, her belief – and while we can’t prove or disprove it, his thought about proximity, well, it couldn’t hurt.”

  “If she has faith that she can do it.” Sylvia said to no one in particular. She remembered speaking to the hesitant woman just one day prior and she looked at Jeremy. “What did he say to her?”

  “They were alone…all I know is, she went in like a pawn and came out – well, let’s just say she was in the game.”

  Jeremy was standing now, thinking as the others talked. He dwelled on Sandy’s earlier statement about the train and collision course. When taking in the whole picture of Johnnie’s life, it was obvious that events and her involvement had gained tremendous momentum of late. If it was connected and coming to a head, the remaining hours were crucial. He had located the television remote; when images appeared on the screen, NHN reporters filled the screen. He turned up the volume, his throat constricting with the news.

  The conversation at the dinner table stopped as they listened to reports of thousands of Chinese troops mobilizing to the Chinese-Indian border. The streaming text across the bottom added that the new Chinese aircraft carrier appeared to be headed to the Indian Coast, and that the U.S. and Great Britain, two of the five world nuclear powers, along with the United Nations, pledged support to India.

  Startled, Jeremy felt a wet pull on his sleeve. Betsy, with concentrated insistence, nearly lost her balance as she released his cuff and leaned against him. He crouched to the floor, sliding his arm around the dog. He looked up at the screen then back into her large open face. He knew there was no way she could understand what was going on, but accepted her comfort, offering her the same in return as the two settled on the floor at the base of the couch.

  In a matter of minutes, dinner was abandoned and the entire party settled around the man and the dog, glasses in hand. The vigil was set and although no one truly knew what they awaited, the air was charged with tension, anticipation and, reluctantly, fear.

  The Hoffstedders humbly accepted Wei’s lavish compliments regarding their beautiful old home…it was awkward as they still hadn’t mentally adjusted to the fact that it was indeed theirs, not Marg Senior’s. As Wei settled into the guest room, they inventoried the kitchen; neither had expected to return home so soon from their open-ended adventure. After Wei had called mid-day, however, they were all of the feeling that future digging into Johnnie’s past was fruitless for the time being and that there was a better than average chance their work had led to the current state of affairs. They had all agreed it might be best to simply huddle during the unfolding of what appeared to be epic events. Byron and Margie were delighted when the old man accepted their impromptu invitation to stay at their home for a day or two, and he was grateful for the companionship at such a trying time.

  Although it was evening time, Byron made a trip to the grocery store to get the basic perishables they lacked. Margie had just placed empty cups on the table and sat; she was unsure what her guest might want and even more unsure what her husband would bring home. She questioned her judgment on sending him at all since the man’s only familiarity in the kitchen revolved around the coffee pot and microwave.

  “It’s ironic how this venture has come round.” Margie jumped at the sound of Wei’s voice. She stood and turned to see the small man holding a book with a distant and beautiful picture of Earth on the glossy cover. She squinted, as if trying to figure out where the book had come from, along with what he meant.

  “Forgive me for helping myself…as I passed the study, the books called to me.” He smiled as he held up the science reference in his hands. “Seeing this reminded me of why my son went into politics in the first place.” He laid the book on the table as she gestured for him to have a seat, and he complied, grateful to rest his old bones.

  He smiled as he remembered, a faraway look in his eyes. He sighed and tapped the image of the earth with his aged finger.

  “He said when he first went to space and saw the full view of earth in her glory, he was moved in a way he couldn’t explain. And he felt accountability…responsibility.” Wei’s eyes found Marg’s. “It changed him in a profound way and he wanted to find a way to make a bigger impact on our nation, on our world. Now, here we are. I guess I should not be surprised this is where his…and her paths have led.”

  Margie searched the man’s face opposite her. He was obviously weary, but she also sensed burden as well as pride. Her heart ached for what he must feel as a father. She said nothing, giving him his space and an ear.

  “You know his name, Wing, means ‘glory.’ Our family name means bridge…or beam.” He shook his head and crossed his arms, leaning back. “You have lofty thoughts when you have children…and names are important to our heritage, but honestly, until this moment, I didn’t attribute much significance to his name, his aspirations…and now, his hopes.”

  Turning the words over in her mind, Marg mouthed, ‘bridge to glory…beam…,’ trying Wei’s thoughts on for size, when the door burst open. Byron clomped in, laden with plastic bags with enough stock for a small army, defying gravity with his load; he should have tipped over with the weight. They rose to help him, but he did not seem to notice as he dumped the bags on the counter and floor, turning to them. He shook his head, looking from one to other.

  “All hell is breaking loose. OPEC just announced it is welcoming Iran back into their organization and they stand firmly along with them, Pakistan and China.” He stepped over the bags on the floor, going to the old radio mounted under the kitchen cabinet, tuning in N.P.R.

  The three stood rooted as voices, less monotone than usual,
verified Byron’s report, as they captured the latest on the Chinese military movements threatening India.

  “Although China is part and party to the No-First-Use policy regarding nuclear weapons, many American citizens are extremely concerned about the volatility of the Chinese-American relations and a potential nuclear conflict…particularly in light of the fact that both Pakistan and India have now opened that door. Of course the U.S. and China have opposite interests in that heating rivalry.”

  “Flames on a fire. Three out of five of the major nuclear states have weighed in on this situation; although France has remained silent, she’s a strong member of the U.N. and on its security council. Russia has remained uncharacteristically silent, but they have had strengthening relations with China – and although long over, the Cold War still echoes in U.S.-Russia relations. Older Americans are fearful of the former Soviet Union and all it represents. Regardless of the angle, it is the perfect storm,” responded the second announcer to the grave agreement of his co-commentator.

  “Yes, indeed, Jasper. Yes. The U.N., as a whole, to include our own national leadership has pledged support to India and at the current rate of escalation, to say the forecast is gloomy would be a gross understatement.” The man cleared his throat, sounding genuinely concerned as he continued. “We know not what our world may be tomorrow. This may be an irreversible chain of events, Jasper, it is frightening, if I may be frank.”

  The faceless and body-less Jasper sounded equally subdued as he replied with little elaboration.

  “Yes. Headlong and, perhaps, irreversible without the help of anything short of, well – a miracle.”

  “I think as we speak, millions around the world pray.”

  “A miracle.” It was all Wei said before he closed his eyes and clasped his hands.

  Byron quickly turned down the radio, glancing at Margie who had absently begun removing groceries from the bags, offering Wei tea or coffee once he opened his eyes and nervously released his hands. Byron didn’t give their guest a chance to answer as he removed his jacket and headed out of the kitchen.