This was the first time in my entire life it depended on Eric. That felt so strange it almost didn’t seem real. Shouldn’t it naturally be the other way around? But it was what it was. My life was in the hands of my nineteen-year-old son. I knew he was damned smart so that wasn’t the problem. It was the lack of life experience that troubled me. I knew he cared. That much was obvious, but especially considering how much effort he’d already invested in my return. But how far had he planned ahead? Did he, for example, take into account potential drift? What if he had locked on to an exact location? If this aircraft I was in were carried by the winds, I might end up miles away from where he was expecting. And if it were a water landing, how would he reach me? Did he have a boat I was unaware of or that belonged to a friend? I could have traveled all of this distance and yet end up worse off floating miles away from a safe shore.
It is often the unknown that’s the most disturbing. It’s those things you can’t control that get on your nerves. Here I was more or less in an airborne coffin headed toward an unknown fate. I once again stopped my thoughts. It was pointless to do anything until there was actually something to do. As mentioned earlier, I had to preserve precious oxygen and not get caught up in some undermining thought process. So I stilled my thoughts and tried to keep focused on that which I could control once I was on the ground.
I did have to admit that my water bottle digging into my ribs was getting uncomfortable. And with my iPad flattened into my other side, I only hoped to God the pressure hadn’t ruined it. After all, all of my research was there along with all of my notes regarding this entire affair. But along with that were several press releases intended for the media once I had an Internet connection.
Even though I’d had plenty of time to contemplate next steps, it was the unexpected that made any sort of plans uncertain. Would the media care? What if they didn’t believe me? After all, a counter-narrative already existed. It’s damned difficult to shift the tide once an initial impression has been inseminated. I’d seen that happen on any number of projects that didn’t go off as planned, but particularly while early in the development process. The next thing we knew, some reporter had picked up the story and ran with it. And that was before we were able to implement the needed corrections and adjustments. It’s the sensational problem that gets attention. It’s not the after-action work that solved the issue.
This seesawing back and forth thinking was not beneficial. I had to stop thinking entirely. I had to go back to sleep. I would need all of my energy for the moments immediately after landing. I closed my eyes and drifted off. I have no idea how long I had been asleep. But a sound woke me up along with an unexpected jolt. I opened my eyes only to realize that some sort of tracking device had been activated. I could see it blinking in front of my face shield. But the jolt...what was it? Had I entered the earth’s atmosphere? Had the parachutes deployed? Was I actually headed toward the earth instead of deep space? Had this vehicle collided with a satellite or a piece of space junk? I had no idea. Regardless, I was at the mercy of whatever stood in the way.
But the tracking device...and who was tracking it? That set off yet another series of troubling thoughts. If Lawther’s team was monitoring and happened to realize that the escape vehicle’s emergency beacon was activated, any number of hurried calls would soon occur. Ted would be on a conference call with command center questioning if something were wrong? He would go to the storage module only to discover his private means of escape was no longer there. And if it wasn’t, and I was unaccounted for by that time, he would know what happened. I could imagine him panicking. I could envision him fearing the worst: I had gotten free of his control—that little misstep of his was now out in the open.
If that were the case, and a group of men from the project corporation was on their way to intercept me, what did that mean for Eric? Would he be at risk? Would they realize he was there essentially for the same purpose? I didn’t have time to think further when I felt an obvious increase in temperature. Air conditioning soon activated. I thought I must be in reentry. The thermal heat shield on this spacecraft had to do its work. I could feel the heat as it penetrated the outer layers. I didn’t have the benefit of a spacesuit that would make up for the difference. No, instead, I was entirely dependent on the vehicle’s assist capabilities. Fortunately, that phase quickly passed. The next thing that happened was a serious jolt, the kind that would happen once parachutes deployed.
From my limited perspective, it did feel as if I were slowing down. But was that simply an expectation and not reality? I couldn’t tell. But if the parachutes were deployed around 9,000 feet, it would only be but a matter of seconds before a landing would be expected. Once again, I was concerned about what I would be landing on or in. But along with that was the one issue I had failed to discover: how to get out. Was there an activator that would open the spacecraft once landed? Or was an outside person necessary to press the release hatch?
I didn’t know if I should prepare to hit the ground or simply relax to the process? That brought back a memory of a conversation I once had with a Highway Patrolman. I spoke to him one evening near my house. It was immediately after what appeared to be a devastating automobile crash. Oddly, the driver survived without a scratch. When I asked why, the Officer said it was because the driver was drunk; he didn’t tense up during the crash. He even alluded to yet another similar incident where a woman driving late at night—and also under the influence—missed a crucial turn and then drove off a serious embankment. Her car flew nose-first onto the beach sixty feet below. Considering the distance and the condition of her car, she should have died. But she didn’t. And all because she was like a rag doll that simply went with the flow rather than resist it.
I saw the wisdom in that sudden insight. I started to take in deep breaths and slowly release them. But as I did, my attention was suddenly drawn to the oxygen gauge. Without realizing it, there weren’t but a few more minutes left before it would run out. Returning to earth’s oxygen-rich environment wouldn’t be of any help as long as this sealed environment held. I could die in those last crucial moments and yet not be able to do anything about it.
An instant later everything stopped. There was no further movement. I steadied my breath and listened intently. Would this vehicle sense the stillness and then open? Would Eric be there as hoped and free me from this highly restricting environment? Or, instead, would it be the corporation ground crew anxiously waiting to apprehend me? Up until this point, I had been willing to be at the mercy of this device, but now I was beginning to panic; I wanted out and in the worst possible way.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The moment the hatch opened, I felt the oxygen coupling release from my helmet. I turned hoping to see Eric. The sunlight filled my field of vision. It nearly blinded me. The next thing I knew, someone had grabbed my hand and was helping me stand up. I did what I could to remove my helmet. But whoever it was, was aggressively pulling me by the hand. The next thing I knew, we started running—or moving as fast as one could in what I later discovered was a knee-deep rice paddy. My senses were numb. I felt helpless without being able to see let alone communicate with my helmet on. In that instant, I feared the worst. The next thing I knew, I had been more or less shoved into the back of a waiting car. I violently tumbled forward and then came to an abrupt stop. I could hear the sound of tires squealing and the sudden lurch of the car as it sped off. My first thought was to take off that damned helmet. I struggled with the release but finally got it to work.
When I finally turned over and then tried to sit up, I realized that Eric was there along with his best friend, Henry. I motioned to Henry to help me remove my helmet. He soon had it off. In one of those greatly appreciated moments, I was finally able to take the first few deep breaths of life-renewing oxygen. I then became aware that Eric was driving like a maniac. I was about to ask why, when he peered anxiously in his rearview mirror. I glanced out the back window only to realize that two black cars were k
eeping up with us. If they were who I thought they were, they wouldn’t give up until they had me in their possession.
I then did the most important thing of all: I unzipped my spacesuit and handed Henry the water bottle and my iPad. “No matter what happens, you guys have to protect these as if they were the most valuable things in the world. And whatever you do, don’t open the water bottle. It’s that important.”
Eric glanced back at me anxiously. “Do you have any idea who those guys are? You know...the ones that almost got to you before we did?”
“Yes, I’m afraid so.”
“But what do we do?”
“Where are we?”
“Northern California, near Chico.”
Okay, I thought, so the rice paddies...that made sense. “How far is Chico from here?”
“I don’t know, maybe thirty miles or so.”
I had a crazy idea. As it was, I knew time was of the essence. “Eric, this is going to sound insane, but when you can, pull over and let me out.”
He glared at me. “What? Are you crazy? Those guys seem to be after you.”
“That may be true and that’s the point: they’re not after you. I think I can handle things from my end. What I need from you the most is to take my iPad and begin giving the press releases I’ve written to the best reporter you can find. Tell them that the true story about what’s actually happening on the moon is there. There are several other press releases to be dispersed later but only if needed. We need them to go viral. We need my return to be the lead story on tonight’s evening news.”
I gently rubbed his shoulder. “When you can, send D a message for me. Tell him I made it and that it’s time. He’ll know what that means.” In other words, D and my crew would sequester Ted in his module and not let him out while I did what I could to negotiate their freedom. I then said, “Take the water bottle down to Davis and give it to Professor Dennison. Tell him it’s from me. He needs to do an immediate analysis. And whatever he does, he shouldn’t release his findings until I notify him that it’s time.”
“But Dad...”
“Eric, you mean the world to me. What you have just done is something for the ages. But trust that what I’m about to do will work. I’ll be okay. Those guys behind us don’t want me dead. No, instead, they want to know what I know. But they also want me silenced.”
Eric begrudgingly did as requested. After a series of turns that then merged onto a straight stretch of road, he slowed down, pulled over, and let me out. I told him to take off and not stop until he was certain he wasn’t being followed. I would be in touch.
My legs were wobbly the moment I tried to walk. In fact, I was keenly aware of how much my muscles had atrophied. I barely had enough strength to stand up. Within a few moments, the two black cars pulled up next to me. I had put out my thumb and was acting somewhat foolishly. I didn’t put up any resistance. But I did take my time when I finally got in the waiting car. I wanted to make certain Eric had a good head start.
The moment I was in the back of the first black sedan, a man in the front seat turned to me. Considering the way he was dressed, I could only assume he was a mid-management executive. He said, “You do know what you’ve done has created any number of serious problems.”
“Really?” I said, “You mean similar to the ones currently plaguing my crew on the moon.”
He scowled at me but didn’t say anything in return. I glanced back at the car behind us and was grateful it stayed with us rather than pursue Eric. But with that, I knew the gears had been engaged; my game plan was about to unfold.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
I hadn’t been restrained, handcuffed, or anything of the sort. But two rather stout men were seated on either side of me while I dozed off. I couldn’t stay awake. I don’t know if it was getting full lungs of oxygen that did it or the idea that I could finally let down, but I remained asleep until we drove up to an unmarked office suite. It was perhaps a couple hours south of where I had landed but I couldn’t say for certain. When I finally reawakened, we were just driving past the security gates. Despite having just endured something that had never been attempted before, I was feeling a bit cocky. In fact, I was feeling downright confident. If my plan went off as expected, and if the media knew I had been apprehended, I was in a choice position. I had several bargaining chips at my disposal.
That, of course, was not the way Lawther viewed it. When I was more or less dragged into his office, he was beyond pissed. His face was red, his eyes were puffy, and it looked as if he needed an enema or had just returned from a proctologist exam. I sat down across from him and smiled. I glanced around at the richly decorated environment and nodded. It was about what I expected. It was as pretentious as the man seated opposite me. A large, full-color printout hung on the wall of an artist’s rendering of “Lunar Base One.” I fiddled with the brass, spaceship-shaped paperweight in front of me until Lawther asked that I stop. He said it was irritating. I wasn’t sure what he was waiting for, but he seemed hesitant to say much of anything. He just sat there looking uncomfortable.
After what felt like ten minutes, a ceiling-mounted monitor was activated. A moment later, a man’s face appeared. At first, I didn’t recognize him. Somewhat like Howard Hughes, there had been rumors suggesting that this once widely praised genius had gone into hiding. Some even suggested that there is a thin line separating genius from madness. His long, salt and pepper beard and tangled hair almost made him impossible to recognize. After the pandemic a decade ago, and evidently feeling vulnerable, he had chosen to sequester on what I could only assume was either a private island or an enormous estate remotely located somewhere in the mountains. He addressed both of us as if it were a formal board meeting. That felt odd under the circumstances. He made a vague reference to my having achieved something he had long wondered about. Was it possible for a personal-sized vehicle to not only escape the moon’s gravity but also make the return trip to earth? That was value-added information. Now, he had proof that what he had long conjectured was not only possible; it had now been achieved. He thanked me for that—which simply added to the surreal quality of the experience.
But when he said it was time to get down to business, I wondered what that meant? He then began asking me a series of questions. For example, why had I chosen to use the escape vehicle when I could have gotten a ride back with one of the delivery crews? When I was about to answer, Lawther appeared as if he were about to explode. I realized that how I responded would have a direct bearing on what came next. But with that, I further sensed that even though the man who founded this company was more a figurehead, he wasn’t, in reality, the one in charge. Lawther answered to him in spirit only and not in deed. So regardless of what I told the man at the top, what would happen once the meeting was over was irrelevant as far as he was concerned. I was still at the mercy of the man who essentially was in control. And he was barely tolerating the proceedings.
After attempting to answer a host of questions, I was desperate for a drink of water. But as I was about to ask, I suddenly felt lightheaded. I knew I was about to faint. My words slurred. The next thing I knew, I was on my back lying on the floor staring up at the ceiling. Keep in mind that I was still in my spacesuit, my adult diapers were soaked, and I was seriously dehydrated. Lawther was standing up peering down at me. I kept hearing “What in the hell is going on there?” coming from the monitor. Lawther kept saying, “It’s nothing, sir, he just needs some water. I’m sure he will be fine.”
But that was immediately challenged, “Fine? Fine my ass. That exceptional individual would not be in that condition if he were fine. I want him brought to my residence immediately. He needs medical attention.”
Lawther pushed back, “But he has yet to be debriefed.”
“I can take care of that here. I’ll send my pilot. I want that remarkable man under my supervision. I’m sure he has much more to share. But until he has been medically treated and given a thorough going over, he should be treated with
care.”
“But sir.”
“Don’t but sir me. You will do as I say and immediately. Are we understood?”
Lawther nodded but definitely was not happy.
“Get the man some water, for God’s sake!”
Lawther was about to get on the intercom. Abruptly, a woman who I assumed was his executive secretary more or less burst into the room. She seemed gravely concerned. She hastily apologized for her unannounced intrusion and said there was a problem, “A very serious problem.”
Lawther demanded, “What are you talking about?”
She picked up the remote and turned on the television. One of the major networks’ news anchor appeared on the screen. The title “Trouble on the moon” appeared above his shoulder. Lawther stared in disbelief as a video of the escape vehicle with deployed parachutes was shown. I could only assume that either Eric or Henry had taken it with their iPhones while I came down to earth.
Lawther yelled, “This is outrageous!”
I could hear the voice from the conference monitor yelling, “What in the hell is going on there?”
Lawther yelled back: “A crisis about that you wouldn’t understand. I have to take care of this. I’ll get back to you once I do.”
“I demand to know what is going on!”
Lawther hit a switch and the monitor went black. He glared at me and shouted, “What have you done?”
The only response that came to mind was, “What have you failed to do? Isn’t that the more important question?”
He nearly screamed at what I assumed was his secretary, “Get the attorneys on the phone. Tell them to do whatever is necessary to get that...that obscenity off the news and immediately. Threaten them with lawsuits if they push back.”
Ice Shadows Page 9