by TM Toombs
“So, this is the cockpit. Not very exciting but it gets the job done. I’ll let you sit in the copilot seat on our flight if you promise not to touch anything,” Jerry said as he made a sweeping motion with his hand. “Next on our tour is the bathroom, always the most important stop on our little tour. Not everyone can stomach space travel.”
Jerry backed out of the cramped cockpit and stepped across the hall. He opened the door marked “Latrine” then stepped back to allow Eshan a quick look. It looked just like an old airplane bathroom he’d seen in countless movies. Eshan nodded, and Jerry continued the tour until they ended up in the cargo hold.
Jerry slapped his hand on a panel next to a sturdy, metal door with a small window at eye level. “This is the cargo hold. When we get to Charon, I’ll show you which pallets of equipment are yours,” Jerry explained. The door made a heavy clunking noise before it slowly slid open. The hold was stuffed with all the boxes, crates, and equipment the men had unloaded from the truck. They stepped into the cramped underbelly of the ship and were surrounded by shoulder-high stacks covered in tight netting and strapped to the floor of the ship.
“Last box, Jerry!” one of the baggage handlers shouted from a large opening across from them.
“Thanks, Mike! Leave the hatch open, I’ll get it before preflight,” Jerry waved as Mike secured the crate he had set down then turned and exited down the ramp to his truck. The crew climbed into the back of the now-empty truck as Eshan watched it lurch forward with a grinding of gears, then drive off out of sight. The open hatchway begged Eshan to run, to escape now, while he still had a chance. But where would he go? What would he do? Even if he escaped the grasp of the men determined to blast him off into space, why stay here? Without Anna, without a reason worth living, did it really matter if he was blasted into oblivion on this fool's mission? At least his agony might be over sooner.
"Eshan?"
He turned. "Sorry, did you ask me something?"
“I just said that concludes our extended tour. As soon as our fighter escort pilot graces us with his presence, we’ll start our preflight and be on our way. Do you have any questions?”
Eshan pulled his gaze from the open hatch and scanned the boxes and crates marked with words that meant nothing to him, words that might mean his very survival in whatever place he ended up. He nodded. “Lots, but I’d like to start with Charon.”
“Oh, yeah,” Jerry laughed, “I supposed you’d like to know where I’m taking you, huh?”
“I’m not one for surprises,” Eshan half-smiled. He relaxed a bit at Jerry’s easygoing attitude.
“Well, it’s this little, dinky moon around Pluto. It’s the furthest out in the network of sentries, and it’s also the newest moon base. They just finished it a couple of months ago. You’ll be the first sentry assigned there, so don’t be surprised if there are a few bugs in the systems. I’m sure they left you lots of manuals laying around.” Jerry laughed at the last part.
“I take it that manuals are an inside joke?” Eshan felt the anxiety monster starting to stalk him.
“I don’t want to ruin it for you.” Jerry winked. “Let’s head back up to the cockpit so I can call the tower and see where our protective fly-boy is. He’s holding up progress.” Eshan followed Jerry back up to the cockpit and plopped himself in the copilot’s chair as Jerry contacted the tower to get an ETA on their escort pilot and a departure time.
“Roger, tower and thanks!” Jerry flipped a switch then removed his headset. “Looks like a newbie Lieutenant will be escorting us this afternoon. He’s finishing his briefing and will be joining us shortly.”
“What do we need an escort for?”
Jerry leaned back in his chair and stretched, then slowly admitted, “Well…it’s not exactly like driving an ice cream truck around the neighborhood. We’ve had a few run-ins with hostiles the further out into the solar system we venture. We’ve lost a couple of transports. Sending an escort along is for our protection and to let the enemy know we aren’t as helpless as we were when we first came across them.”
Just as Eshan was about to ask another question, like what enemy, a buzzer went off in the cockpit. Jerry swung around in his chair and hit a button bringing a blank screen to life. A serious looking man wearing mirrored sunglasses and a flight suit filled the screen.
“You must be Lieutenant Rodgers,” Jerry spoke into the intercom.
“Affirmative. Permission to enter. I want to get this damn briefing over so we can get the hell outta here.”
Jerry punched a button, “Enter at your own peril.” He turned to Eshan. “Be back in a sec. These hack pilots are always getting lost around a real ship.” And then he was up, out of his chair and disappearing down the corridor to some unknown hatch to meet the fighter pilot.
Eshan sighed, sat back and scratched at his now scruffy beard. A reminder of his last day on Earth and his last moments with Anne. Eshan shook his head. The past held nothing but pain for him now. In a few minutes, that pain along with everything good about his life would be left behind, and he would face a new future that promised to be just as miserable. He would be catapulted with some plasma-drive thing, shoved off on a "dinky moon," dependent on a system riddled with bugs, and left to rot with a stupid kitten that was as frightened as he was. For now, he blanked out his mind and let his eyes scan the myriad of dials that meant his exile would soon begin.
Moments later, Jerry returned with Rodgers. “Lieutenant, Eshan. Eshan, Rodgers.” Eshan and Rodgers exchanged nods as Jerry reclaimed his pilot's seat.
“I’ll skip all the formalities and get right to it,” Rodgers started, leaning against the bulkhead and crossing his arms over his chest. “We’ve got reports of increased hostiles patrolling the edge of the system. Command predicts an 80-percent chance of us encountering a patrol, so be on your toes. We don’t want them figuring out we have a base set up on Charon, so hightail it back here if we do run into one of those bastards. I’ll engage and give you cover to clear the area. They don’t seem interested in following any of our ships back to Earth. If you don’t have any questions, we leave in 15 minutes.”
“I don’t have any,” Jerry seemed nonchalant as he looked at Eshan, “You?” Eshan shook his head.
“Good, see you on Moon Base Charon in 8 hours.” Rodgers straightened his slight frame and turned to leave. “Oh, and I have orders to shoot you if you try anything, Wallace,” he said over his shoulder as he disappeared down the corridor.
“Isn’t he just a breath of spring air?” Eshan looked at Jerry.
Jerry shrugged. "Hey, you aren't the only one doing time out here."
"What do you mean?" Jerry pursed his lips, then leaned toward Eshan. "Hey, it's only a rumor. But scuttlebutt has it that Lieutenant Rodgers isn't a guy to mess with. That someone learned that the hard way and this gig of flying as escort, which, by the way, it not high on anyone's wish list, is part of a deal. A sealed record about God knows what in exchange for a bit of escort time." He shrugged again. "You didn't hear it from me." He lifted himself out of his chair.
Eshan nodded. Jerry patted him on the shoulder as he left the cockpit.
Fifteen minutes later, Jerry and Eshan were belted into their individual chairs and Jerry flicked toggles, punched buttons and bit his lip.
“Tower, this is Transport 5-Delta-8 requesting permission for takeoff. Over?” Jerry spoke into his headset as he manipulated numerous switches and controls on the dashboard directly in front of him.
“Transport 5-Delta-8, you are a go for departure,” a silky-smooth voice crackled over the speakers. “Have a safe trip, Jerry. And remember, you still owe me dinner and a dance, ya sexy walrus.”
Jerry laughed, “Roger that, Tower. Out.” Jerry gripped the control yoke in front of him and slowly began to pull it towards him. Eshan felt the floor beneath him begin to vibrate with the increased drone of the engines as they began to build up power. He looked out the canopy and watched as they slowly lifted up and away from the te
rminal. His stomach flip-flopped. He grabbed the arms of his chair and dug his fingers in.
“Don’t worry, Eshan,” Jerry shouted over the increasing hum of the engines. “The most dangerous part of space travel is the take-off. And we haven’t had an incident in weeks.”
After what felt like a lifetime of bone-grinding vibrations, the ship began to pull free of the Earth’s gravitational field.
“Escort, this is Transport 5-delta-8. We are clear of the atmosphere. Request we rendezvous at satellite Def 24. Over.” Jerry eased back on the yoke. The tight expression he’d been wearing during takeoff slowly melted away as the vibrations ceased.
“Roger that, transport. Over.”
As the ship cleared the atmosphere and the sunlight faded behind them, Eshan swallowed hard. Wide-eyed, he stared up at the stars and the clear, bright moon above them.
“Pretty cool, huh?” Jerry grinned at him like a kid showing off his shiny, new toy.
“Yeah. I never even dreamed of going into space. It’s a little awe-inspiring.”
Jerry leaned back in his chair, stretched and laced his hands behind his head, staring up at the moon reflecting the light of the sun.
“Just think. Five years ago, we didn’t have these fancy plasma-based propulsion engines. But thanks to our little grey friends, we now have advanced space travel along with so many other wonderful advancements.”
“Don’t you wonder about them?” Eshan asked, watching the moon grow steadily bigger.
“Naw. Not really. They give us incredible advances and we give them brute strength and raw resources. Plain and simple.”
Eshan squinted his eyes as he looked at Jerry sideways. “Brute strength?”
Jerry sat up and checked a flashing display screen. “They need a work force to mine some mineral on a far-off world.”
“Do you know what they use the minerals for?” Eshan shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
After he finished checking the screen, Jerry sat back and looked hard at Eshan before answering. “A friend of mine in the State Department tells me that the Greys are ass deep in a war they can’t win. Unless we help them. So, our government is offering them the services of millions of healthy, strong-backed humans to perform manual labor on their mining colonies. The raw minerals are toxic to them, I guess. Or maybe it is just that after a millennium living in space, they no longer have the muscle to do heavy lifting. So, this mineral, let’s call it ‘grey shit’ cuz I never could figure out how to pronounce it right, is used for some sort of dirty bomb or ammunition against their enemies. The whole thing sounded far-fetched to me. But anyway, in exchange for our temporary help, we get advanced tech and a million or so less humans for our planet to support until we can get our ducks in a row, technologically speaking.”
As Eshan sat there, digesting what Jerry just told him, Jerry pulled out a leather-bound flask. With a quick flick of his thumb, the cap opened and he took a quick swig. He offered it to Eshan. He accepted the flask and tilted it back. The strong whiskey burned the back of his throat. Eshan coughed to clear the tightness he felt and handed the flask back to Jerry.
“You're saying those million or so souls will be returning to Earth?” Eshan’s eyes watered as he coughed again.
"Well, sure."
"Just how sure are you? Was that really part of the agreement? Have any returned so far?"
Jerry blinked rapidly. “I guess I ... assumed.” Eshan saw Jerry's brow furrow for the first time. Jerry wasn't the only one Eshan had talked to who made assumptions. Was Earth really trading human lives for the betterment of those left behind? Or to fill government coffers? Did the souls shipped off realize they might never return? The silence of space hung between them for more than a few heartbeats as they both mulled over what neither of them wanted to discuss.
“All I know for sure is that these Greys gave us ways to increase our crop yields and obliterated most forms of cancer. But most importantly, at least to me, the cure for the common cold,” Jerry grinned wide. “I dunno about you, but my wife was always complaining about my ‘Man Cold’ like I wasn’t really at death’s doorstep when I had the sniffles.”
Eshan hesitated, his mouth opened, poised to speak. Then he closed it again, mulling over his question. Finally, he had to ask, “I never really followed this whole human/alien association, so maybe you can answer something else for me?”
Jerry nodded as his eyes scanned his complex dashboard, looking for anything amiss. “Shoot.”
“Where do the Greys come from?”
“Oh, I know that one! Zeta Reticuli,” Jerry answered as he touched a screen near him, bringing up a display that looked like a video game to Eshan.
Before Eshan could ask another question, bile bubbled into his mouth, his stomach clenched and he doubled over in pain as beads of sweat formed at his temples. He quickly unbuckled his restraining belt and sprinted out of the cockpit and across the hall to the ship’s latrine.
Chapter 4
The trip to Pluto’s largest moon, Charon took a little over seven hours thanks to the Plasma-based propulsion system the Greys had bestowed upon humanity in exchange for the first 5,000 mining volunteers. For most of the trip, Eshan spent his time in the ship’s latrine, throwing up the water and cheese Danish he’d had that morning in the courthouse.
“We’ll be arriving at Charon in about five minutes,” Jerry announced over the ship’s public address system. Eshan flushed the commode again, turned on the faucet, rinsed his mouth and splashed water on his face. Staring into the mirror at his disheveled appearance, he was surprised to see how exhausted he appeared. The dark circles under his eyes looked as if he’d gotten tangled with a professional boxer and lost. His short, brown hair stuck up in places and matted to his skull in others. Glancing down at himself, he was reminded of the homeless people who lived in the woods near Ship Creek. God, I’d give anything for a long, hot shower.
“Eshan, please return to the cockpit so we can begin the landing procedure.” Eshan gave himself a last check in the mirror, then reached for the doorknob.
“I was beginning to think you’d figured out how to flush yourself into space to escape,” Jerry smiled at him warmly.
“This space travel stuff sucks,” Eshan said as he sank into the copilot’s seat.
“Yeah, it’s not for everyone. But I love it out here. It’s the definition of freedom in my book.”
“If you say so, buddy. I’ll take the overcrowding on Mother Earth over this any day.”
“That’s exactly why I spent two years learning to fly this cantankerous barge. To get away from the 11.2 billion people inhabiting our planet. If I could find another world that looked like Alaska did when my great grandfather was small, I’d crash this ship and never go back.”
“If you do, I’d be happy to go with you. I miss fishing for salmon and Arctic Grayling in the Deshka and the Kenai. That was always the highlight of my summer.” Eshan sighed.
“Things with the world just haven’t been the same since the Greys showed up, have they?” Jerry asked as he concentrated on the instrument panel in front of him. Eshan saw a grid with yellow flashing lines that seemed to be guiding Jerry and the ship to a landing point. Eshan strained to look over at the dashboard to see the terrain but they were coming in at an angle and he was only able to see stars. During the seven hours Eshan had seen the red magnificence of an angry-faced Mars and the glinting white saw-blade rings, warning off visitors to Saturn. He'd missed the other planets, a bit pre-occupied in the latrine. So mostly he'd seen only stars during their transport. Even a glimpse of where he would be living for a year would feel reassuring right now.
“Transport 5-Delta-8, this is Lieutenant Rodgers,” crackled over the speakers. “I’m going to fly a patrol pattern while you offload your passenger and equipment. Maintain radio silence until five minutes before you are ready to depart, over.”
“Roger that, Escort. Over.”
The nose of their ship dipped from the line of st
ars before them, and Eshan craned his neck to see the dead grey curvature of Charon. Little broke the barren landscape but a speck in the distance quickly grew to a red-rimmed circle, like a blood stain on a grey cadaver. So much for reassuring. Eshan's gut clenched as the deceleration grasped his every fiber, but strapped in, he had no choice but to swallow back the remnants of bile that threatened him.
Jerry expertly put the ship down dead center of the red outline of the landing pad. He threw a couple of switches and the incessant hum ceased, then he turned his chair and looked at Eshan. “This is your stop, my friend. Time to suit up and unload.”
Eshan stared. “No one said anything about space suits!” Visions of stumbling around in a bulky suit for a year on this barren landscape made the idea of prison on Earth more palatable all the time.
“Ah, don’t worry, it’s not hard. Well, not for humans anyway. But you’re gonna have a hell of a time getting that cat in one,” Jerry laughed as he pushed himself up and out of the chair and in two steps, he was jogging down the hall towards the cargo hold with Eshan rushing to catch up behind him.
“You weren’t serious about stuffing the cat into a space suit, were you?” Eshan called after him.
He was answered with laughter echoing off the ship’s walls. Eshan closed his eyes and shook his head. He caught up to Jerry as he opened a locker. Jerry snatched a puffy snowman suit off a hook, stepped into it and pulled it up to his midsection. He shoved his arms into the sleeves then worked the neck cowling up and over his head until his head was through. Turning his back toward him, Eshan saw the opening to Jerry’s suit.
“The long cord that was attached to my zipper broke a long time ago and I can’t zip myself up easily. So, I could use a zip, dah-ling,” Jerry grinned over his shoulder. Eshan studied the odd-looking zipper and then tugged on the stiff mechanism. “It takes a little more muscle than that,” Jerry coached. Eshan grabbed a handful of the suit in one hand and the zipper slide in the other and, using all his might, zipped Jerry up into his suit. Jerry shook his arms and legs, adjusting his suit.