“Starwanderer3” had been arrested and charged with treason. Couldn’t have been his hacking. Converse-man was untraceable. He must have blabbed to someone about what he was doing; someone who had a beef with the Feds and flipped him for less time, or no time, in the slammer. Turned out, his name was Michael Anderle. He was a weapons’ specialist with NASA and had the top-level clearance. That meant the guy was a no-shit genius. All that talent, wasted. Down the tubes. For nothing. He was going to spend the rest of his life in Federal Prison, picking glass out of his Cheerios.
“Jabberwockmyass,” sent an encrypted message, which took Drew two days to unlock. One word. “Cuba.” Looks-two-ways-and-is-a-fucking-national-hero was taking himself off the grid. That meant he, too, had been compromised. Drew would never know his name.
Which left only “bitemymegabite.” She was the Goth-chick. She hadn’t said word one. Drew’s every hope was that she was safe, rather than in a ditch someplace with Joy Division playing on her shattered iPhone.
Drew was drained. When the news hit the wires that Slade was planning an exodus, he simply changed the launch date. Nothing was going to stop that mealy-mouthed, weasel-faced, no-good, shit-for-brains bobblehead from leaving Earth for Callisto.
Drew sighed. He suddenly wanted to see his mother again. He went for his keys when Connor Eves from WNN came on the news. Drew was so out of it, he didn’t realize his TV was blasting in the other room.
He walked into the living room, avoiding the unfolded laundry and stood, watched, and listened.
Connor Eves intertwined his fingers as he gave a news anchor-look into the screen: confident, erect, sincere. “No one has been able to pinpoint the location. But we have a feed from GSA, and all our WNN and affiliate stations will be broadcasting the launch worldwide. The view is stunning.” They switched to a shot of a large ship attached to three chemical fuel rockets about twice the size of the space shuttle. This ship was, they were told, twenty-years ahead of its time.
It was launching today. Slade was getting off planet today. This was beyond fucked up.
Drew lay on his couch and curled into the fetal position. How could the world be so stupid? How could his own network continue to fall for Slade’s lie? When Slade said they were conducting an exploratory mission, so they could “ensure Callisto was habitable” then shuttle “everyone who wants to leave our beloved Planet Earth” on the next round of evacuations, the people, his network, his peers – sheep, sheep, baaaaaaaaaaa, sheep – had believed him. Why? Why, why, why, why, why did people always plump for the easy answer? It was beyond Drew’s comprehension.
The image of the ship was still on the screen, Connor’s voice narrating the history-making event, “In less than one minute, we’ll hear the countdown. We are bringing the ship’s crew live to you right now.”
Colonel Slade Roberson appeared on the screen, speaking into his intercom. The traitor dared wear a red, white, and blue bandanna.
Drew was appalled.
The rest of the crew was partitioned on the TV screen around him like the opening credits of the Brady Bunch.
“That’s corny!” Drew shouted at the screen.
“Roll call,” Slade announced, giving the camera a wink, doing his politician act. “First Mate, Executive Officer, Richard Fox?”
Fox dipped his head. “Here, Colonel.”
“First Helmsmen, Bonnie Monroe?”
“Here,” she said, beaming a smile for the camera.
“First Engineer,” continued Slade, “Maya Lou Mills?”
“Aye, Colonel.”
“Information Systems Technician, Nick Thacker?”
“Yep. I’m here.”
He continued to name off names for the next ten seconds. Names that no one had heard of, including Drew. Going from ship doctors to ancient culture researchers, he finally ended at a linguistic, physics, and pyramid expert, Jon Shaughnessy.
The one name he didn’t call was Kaden Jaxx.
Drew’s heart sank. Maybe his uncle had truly been eliminated. Drew wasn’t able to fulfill his uncle’s desires, but at least he had gotten the word out, even if the whole thing had backfired. Drew had propelled Slade to a level of notoriety only enjoyed by a handful of humans.
“Helmets on. Get ready for takeoff.” Slade gave a thumbs-up to the camera, then put his helmet on.
The crew fastened their helmets to their jump suits. A bit too aware of the camera for Drew’s taste.
“Bonnie,” ordered Slade. “Turn on the engines and let her fly.”
“Oh my god!” said Drew. “That’s not even a launch protocol, you dipwad!”
A moment later, the craft started to shake and the TV screen changed from the Brady Bunch view to Slade’s ugly mug, filling the entire screen.
Connor Eve’s voice came over the TV, “Each rocket contains 12,000 pounds of rocket fuel, making it the heaviest and most dangerous launch of our lifetime – of any lifetime. Get ready, because the countdown is about to proceed.”
In spite of his hatred of Slade, Drew’s stomach was doing somersaults, much like the rest of the world. The ship, which was just the tip of a larger starship, would eventually dock with the starship in Earth’s upper orbit. Once it docked, they’d be on their way to Callisto. Drew couldn’t help but think this was the end of United States as he knew it.
The camera panned out. The ship was on a launch pad somewhere off shore, in a beautiful ocean seascape, blue sky above. At this moment, the world, including the news, saw the location for the first time. Yet, no actual location scrolled across the screen.
The rockets started to spew fire, and the craft moved upward as if inching along, then blasted off the launch pad and into the sky.
Drew couldn’t take his eyes away as the camera followed the craft’s trajectory. His tongue tingled, and his heart beat faster. He clenched his fists, biting his bottom lip. He, like everyone else, didn’t know if he was breathing or not, and didn’t care.
He thought of his Uncle Jaxx. Was he watching as well? Either from the other side of death or here on earth?
Drew took his eyes from the ships ascent to the camera panning on Slade. He was squinting, as if he had a million pounds sitting on his chest. Slade was doing his best to breathe through it all.
Connor’s voice came back on, but it was more of a distant distraction. “They have 3G’s pressing on them. This is a tough go. But it’s all looking good so far. Nothing to worry about.”
They entered space in six minutes, which passed like six seconds. Slade smiled, going from Earth’s gravity one second and into space’s nearly non-existent gravity the next. He floated off his chair a few centimeters and into his straps and shoulder harness. “That was a flipping rush!”
“Yeah, I’ve got a headache,” Fox complained.
“Me too,” said a couple more voices.
“I feel like I’m going to throw up,” Bonnie mentioned.
“Please don’t,” Slade responded. “We’re on national TV.” He corrected himself. “No, worldwide TV.”
“Everyone relax; we rendezvous with the rest of the ship in a few hours.” said Fox.
Drew’s eyes were wide. Even though he was against every aspect of the launch and Slade’s idea of getting the government off the planet – starting with himself and this ship – Drew was riveted. It was a rush, like watching a car chase on a film or watching a jet fight on blueray. If he had popcorn, he’d be shoving fist fulls in his mouth while taking in all this excitement.
“Strap back in, crew.” It was Slade’s voice, low and urgent. The camera caught his worry. He tried to smile, but it was tight, forced.
“What’s up, Colonel?” Fox asked.
Slade’s eyes dashed back and forth. He was looking at something Drew and the cameras couldn’t see.
“Something is wrong.” He pressed some buttons. “Do we have a leak?”
The TV screen went white.
Connor blinked back on the screen, his mouth open. “There are no words…”
he faltered, then touched his earpiece. “We’re going to show it.” He held back the tears, but was caught looking down and sobbing just before the TV cut to an image of the debris falling back through the clear blue sky. “As you can see, it launched without a glitch. It…it seems to have exploded just above the atmosphere.”
Drew’s mouth gaped.
Connor nodded several times, pressing his finger in his ear. He folded hands together, wrinkles grew with his downcast face. “God Bless Colonel Slade and his brave crew. May they rest in celestial peace.”
Drew looked past the TV, shaking his head. This wasn’t right. This didn’t happen. He wanted to laugh, he wanted to call everyone he knew and tell them to settle down and that this was just another conspiracy. He imagined people placing their heads in their hands. Some crying, others bemoaning the fact that humanity’s greatest triumph had disintegrated in front their eyes. Their excitement, their one chance to be part of history, erased in the blink of an explosion.
But, it didn’t happen. He knew it. He saw through Slade’s bullshit fake-out. He also knew no one would believe him. No one.
51
June 11th, 2018 ~ Unknown
“Lift your leg really high, Jaxx.”
Jaxx’s mind was coming around, though he hadn’t a clue where he was.
Slade led him, with a bag of some type over his head not allowing him to see a damn thing. The bag was tied softly around his neck, enough for him to breath – how thoughtful of them – but not enough for him to slip it off.
He lifted his leg, though weary and weak. His toe hit a ledge. He stumbled, but his foot landed back on the floor almost immediately, which meant he’d just crossed some sort of threshold. Maybe. He needed data, if he was going to find out where he was and where they were taking him. He could neither smell, nor see anything through the bag. He needed sound. He stomped his foot, hard, with his next step. Good. The reverb was metallic. There was also an echo. They could be in a small building. A warehouse of some kind. But metal floors? What had metal floors? He shivered. “Meat locker” was the first thing that came to mind.
Slade pushed him into a chair, then strapped a harness over his shoulders, crossing his chest and hips. He then tethered Jaxx’s forearms to the arm rests.
“Where are we?” Jaxx heard the panic in his own voice.
“You’ll be fine, Jaxx. Be calm or I’ll knock you out again.”
Slade walked away, shutting the door behind him.
“Slade?” said Jaxx.
No answer.
He dropped his chin to his chest, feeling a wave of nausea. Throwing up in the bag would be beyond shitty.
A door opened and two sets of shoes clacked against the floor. No, not shoes. Boots. Shiny fucking boots, I bet.
“Who’s there?” Jaxx asked. “Can you help me?”
“It’s Slade, Jaxx. No need to ask me for help. You ain’t getting any.”
“There are two people here. Who is with you?” Jaxx asked.
“Captain Richard Fox.”
Jaxx tightened up.
“Don’t worry, numb nuts,” Fox said, a hint of laughter in his voice. “I’m not here to fuck you up.”
They took the bag off Jaxx’s head.
Jaxx’s eyes adjusted to a dimly-lit room. The windows were covered with blackout material, as was the ceiling.
Slade winked. “Time to go.” He dug into his pocket, taking out a piece of gum, then popped it in his mouth. He folded his arms. “Don’t be nervous.”
Jaxx’s breathing was shallow, his eyes darting from Slade to Fox. “What’s happening?”
Fox grinned, looking at Slade. “This is fun. Can I stay here and watch?”
Slade rubbed his hands together, then checked his watch. He turned and exited through the curtains. A glimpse of a white, rounded wall caught Jaxx’s eye through the curtain opening.
Slade came back, holding a helmet with a black visor and a large, thick, space-age looking sleeping bag. He handed the helmet and bag to Fox.
Jaxx tried to kick Fox, but the restraints held him at bay. “What’s going on?”
Slade stared down at his empty palms, his eyes glazed. The guy was tired, as if he’d been up for days. “The rest of the world thinks we blew up right after the launch. You, on the other hand, are the first to see that we haven’t.”
Jaxx tilted his head. What is he talking about? “Launch?”
Slade bent down, so his face was only inches from Jaxx’s. The minty-fresh gum did nothing for his drinking-too-much-whiskey breath. “What have I told you about that echo, Jaxx?”
Jaxx nodded. The man was coming unhinged. He needed to tread lightly. “Can you at least tell me where I am?”
“Classified,” Slade replied.
Fox placed the helmet over Jaxx, and everything went dark, the black visor blocking all light.
Someone – had to be Fox, he would enjoy being rough – undid the straps that held him to the chair. Fox yanked him to his feet and wrapped him in that space-age sleeping-bag-thingie they’d brought in with them.
“This will just take a moment,” Slade said. His voice was muted by the helmet.
The two men messed around with Jaxx’s helmet and adjusted the bag. Jaxx heard two clicks, fastening the bag to his helmet. Then they strapped him back to his chair. Assholes.
Fox and Slade walked away. The door slammed. Again. His life had become a series of slamming doors. What kind of slam was it, though? A heavy door. Heavy, with multiple locking mechanisms. The shape of the door frame, the heavy blankets all around the room, the sound that door made.
He wasn’t in a warehouse.
He was in a freaking space ship.
Jaxx took a deep breath, fresh oxygen filling his lungs.
“I am going to Callisto,” he screamed. No one hears you in a space ship. “I am going to Callisto, wearing a suit designed for prisoners.”
The room tilted back, back, back until Jaxx was on his back. “Yeah,” he said. “D-day.”
The vibrations were bone-shaking. Even his teeth rattled in their sockets. Way behind him, there was that loud, continuous roar. “Engines are primed. We are ready for lift off.”
Jaxx swayed forward, the vibrations almost addling his brain. He tried to scream, but he couldn’t.
Gravity pressed against him like no force he had ever felt. It was a force, pressing on his shoulders and chest, like a boulder slowly crushing him. It was mounting, more pressure every passing second. The ship accelerated.
Jaxx was certain he was about to be pulverized. They must have gotten the calibrations wrong. Surely not all space travel was like this? It was nothing like his time with the SSP. He tried to contract the muscles around his rib cage, to protect his lungs. He desperately wanted to remain conscious. He’d blacked out far too many times. Now was the time to stay awake, alert, in control of his life. If they would only listen to him, he would tell them how to design a ring of pyramids and save Earth. He shook his head. Earth would be fine. She always was. It was man who was going to suffer.
He forced his eyelids open and flew directly into the dark.
52
June 12th, 2018 ~ Charlotte, North Carolina
Drew wheeled his mother on the cement path, heading to Tanner Springs Assisted Living Center’s only scenic view, a small pocket of trees.
“Mom. I had to see you.”
“Well, that’s good. Do we know each other?”
He pushed her into the shade, parking her chair next to a wooden bench. He helped her out of her chair and onto the bench. “No need to fake it any more, Mom. They won.”
She shook her head. “Not unless you let them, son. They may have won the battle, but you, my darling, are going to win the war.”
A rocket blasted off across the way, rocket smoke trailing across the sky and into the heavens. It was loud, though not as close as it sounded. It was miles away. Drew felt like he could reach out and touch it.
Another governor or senator was leaving Ea
rth to join the other politicians and their families on a starship destined for Callisto. He wanted to scream to the world that he warned them, that he told them so.
The entire government was leaving. It was being reported all over the news. Governors and senators left farewell letters, recorded farewell speeches, and told the citizens that they would be back as soon as they established a civilization on Callisto. They said that everyone would be saved from the global warming cataclysm that was on its way. When was the cataclysm going to hit the Earth? They didn’t know, but soon, very soon.
The politicians wouldn’t be back.
Laura cast a glance over her shoulder. “They’re still here you know. You need to be more careful. You broke the biggest story that this world has ever seen and there are trials to come. They’re going to try to silence you. You have to stay away.”
Drew patted her hand. “I love that you believe in me, Mom. And I love, more than anything, that you’re here and can see me and I get to talk to you again. I missed you so much.”
“They’re coming,” she said. “Game face on.”
Drew looked back at the facility. Sure enough, the clunky, uncoordinated, overly-muscled G-men were padding across the lawn.
“Is that a second rocket, Drew?” His mother pointed to another rocket, a different rocket carrying additional politicians closer to the edge of the atmosphere.
“It’s happening all over the country, Mom. They are leaving. The politicians are leaving.”
“Not that I mind. What did the politicians ever do for us?” she said. She patted Drew’s hand. “Listen to me, Drew. Your dad didn’t die.”
Drew stared at his mom. “I don’t care what happened to him. He left us. Both. He’s dead to me.”
“Sir is alive.”
Another rocket propelled into the sky. Drew didn’t bother looking. His mom did.
“Why did you come here, mom? Why have you hidden yourself away all this time? Was it because of him? Sir?”
“Nope,” she said. “Like I said before. It was because of me and because of you.”
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