Ice Shadows

by W. R. Heustis

  Eric was concerned by my diminished condition. And to be honest, he had good reason to be. And when I started fumbling over my words and started to slur them, he peered at me anxiously in his rearview mirror. He then asked if I were okay? In the fewest words possible, I told him, “that it all depends on your definition of okay.” After that, I more or less passed out.

  I barely remember being carried from the car to Ayden’s apartment. I’m sure it must have been embarrassing, but especially for my son. The next thing I knew, I was laying in bed but only for an instant. I slept for twelve hours before I finally woke up. Eric had been by my side for most of that time. I guess as long as I continued breathing, he was content to let me sleep. I’m not sure what he would have done if I hadn’t. Taking me to the emergency room with my now established notoriety might have proved problematic.

  Once I was coherent enough to think somewhat, I made my way to the shower. When you have been without something you typically take for granted, the moment you experience it, it’s as if you’ve been transported to heaven. Feeling the water coursing over my dreadfully dirty body was life-renewing. It was revitalizing. It felt as if I’d been given a new lease on life. Eric had set out a clean set of clothes that I gratefully put on. His and my sense of style, however, was clearly at odds. That was especially evident when I put on what obviously appealed to a nineteen-year-old. But under the circumstances, I couldn’t be all that choosy. I did have to admit that it felt refreshing to be wearing something clean.

  Once I returned to a somewhat civilized mindset, I then went to the small kitchen where I had a choice of any number of things to eat. The moment I saw the bananas, that was it. I hadn’t eaten one let alone any actual fruit for months. I devoured it in a matter of moments. Eric stood by and stared at me wide-eyed. I didn’t mean to embarrass him but I was so hungry that manners were easily forgotten.

  I soon ate a bowl of cereal, a toasted cheese sandwich, and an entire bag of trail mix. It might sound a bit eclectic but it did the trick. I could feel my energy slowly returning. My mind began to clear. I no longer felt as if I were about to die. Soon enough, Ayden sat across from me and asked if I was ready for the interview? I told him I was. But I wanted to get a sense of reach; how far would this story go? Would it be solely a local piece? Ayden assured me that not only would it appear on the AP wire but would also be given to local broadcasters that would, in turn, would share it with the national networks. By this afternoon, the world would know the truth—or at least my version of it.

  Before we got started, I asked Ayden what he knew up to this point? It didn’t seem relevant to tell him things he already knew. He began by saying that Eric had provided a lot of background material. He knew about my past and the projects I’d worked on throughout my career. He went so far as to say that it was more than obvious why I was chosen to do the lunar project. But what he couldn’t get his mind around was the incongruous fact that I was somehow sabotaging it. Why would I do that if every one of my previous projects didn’t end up the same way? They were successful and history-making.

  While Eric sat beside him, Ayden then told me that if it hadn’t been for the space helmet Eric had already shown him, there was no further evidence to support the claim of my return to earth. When Eric went back to pick up the escape vehicle, it and the parachutes had disappeared. Eric said he knew the men who apprehended me must have picked it up at some point—and before he could. When I told Ayden I had my space suit rolled up as further evidence, he suggested that he wasn’t the one needing convincing; rather, it was the general public. Considering the rash of outright lying that had been going on for years, a portion of the population would believe anything given whatever a set of politicians as well as networks said was true.

  Ayden even proposed that Lawther and his PR firm would spin things to make it appear as if a landing crew had brought me back from the moon. That meant that I was being apprehended for my misdeeds instead of escaping worsening conditions. In other words, it was like media chess: for every account I offered, they would counter it by making my side appear worse. There was little doubt that not only was my reputation on the line but the safety of my crew as well. Ayden asked that I offer more detail about that. When I told him about Raphael’s accident and the potential consequences to his health, that was the thread Ayden wanted to explore further. When I made it clear that even the slightest accident could prove lethal, I had to make it more than obvious that an ambulance, helicopter, or waiting emergency launch vehicle wasn’t ready at a moment’s notice. But when you have a mid-level executive covering that up, you have a situation that will only get worse by the hour. When I told Ayden that Ted insisted that Raphael continue working, he was outraged. Now he had the basis for a story; now he had a human-interest aspect to go on that was vitally important to get out there.

  Ayden asked me questions about my escape and how that felt? He wanted details about how management had failed to listen to professional input and how that would have made things run more smoothly if they had. He asked about my relationship with management in general. How had they been on initial interactions? And how had they treated me once they had me back under their control? When I explained my side of things, he said it was harrowing to consider. He acknowledged that I could have easily died had things not gone according to plan. Escaping in an unproven escape vehicle seemed about as risky as it gets.

  Oddly, when I mentioned the presence of two key women, he stopped me, but especially when I told him about Helen. Ayden said, “You do know that the founder—as you continue to refer to him—has two sisters.”

  I stared at him in disbelief. “Maybe it’s just a coincidence? You know, that it just ended up that a couple of women were there to help me? Maybe they weren’t related and just happened to be there at the time of greatest need?”

  Ayden asked that I describe them. The woman I assumed was an executive secretary could have described any number of women. But when I started to offer details about Helen, Ayden stopped me and said he was correct. He went on to explain that Helen was the black sheep in the family. “She was about as independent-minded as they come.” From what little he knew about her, the fact that she was related to one of the wealthiest men on the planet was more of a curse than a blessing. She had done what she could to remove herself from any sense of connection. She had even changed her last name as a last resort. But that was about the extent of what Ayden knew. But even with that, I was struggling to fit the pieces together. Did it matter that I had met someone so close to the top? Was that why Helen knew about the guest suites but had failed to make that clear? Was that why she was so close to the estate when I met her and was dressed in a manner not befitting a backpacker or some out of work waitress? My mind was going in circles by that point. And to add to the mix, Ayden had called up a photo of Helen on his phone. I glanced at it and nodded. “Yes, that’s her; you were right.” The only difference was that her name was Eileen and not Helen. Why that was important didn’t seem to matter at the moment.

  When Ayden asked what I felt was most important to articulate, I told him, “I don’t care if it’s NASA, one of the other commercial space corporations, or even another country, what was most important at that moment was the safe return of my crew. They had taken on something so monumental and dangerous that they not only deserved a break, a counsel should be convened to establish ground rules for further work on the moon. No one should have to endure something so demanding. But that was especially the case if it involved careless management without controlled and respected oversight.

  Henry appeared at the doorway and said we needed to hear what just happened. We turned to him and he began reading a breaking news headline on his laptop. Professor Dennison had been shot. Evidently, he had been taken to a local hospital and was in critical but stable condition. The details were sketchy but a suspect had been apprehended and was now in custody. I took a deep breath. They were on to me. But when I stopped to consider that Helen might have tip
ped them off, something inside wouldn’t go there. Considering all that she had done, she could have easily turned me in on her way to the airfield. Security could have come and apprehended me without any resistance on my part. So I wasn’t holding her accountable—that is until I had further evidence to counter that.

  When I asked Henry if there was more to the story, he shook his head. The only details being offered indicated that nothing had been taken from Professor Dennison’s office. His research lab, however, had been ransacked. That was the extent of what was currently known. I knew what they were after. But for the moment, I chose to keep that piece of the puzzle to myself.

  For the time being, Ayden had enough to go on. His only concern now was that my being in his apartment might not be such a good idea. If whoever was after me had traced me to Davis, they might not be all that far away. I wholeheartedly agreed. I told Eric that we needed to get moving. But I also encouraged Ayden to go someplace else for the time being. If Professor Dennison had been injured, we didn’t need someone else experiencing something similar. Ayden agreed and said he would go to his office. At least there, he would be protected as well as his sources. Once his story was published, he would stay with his girlfriend and then monitor any related unfolding events. He was certain a counter-story would soon be out there. He said he wanted to be prepared to challenge it.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  It’s odd. That’s all I can say. When you’ve done nothing wrong and are trying to expose someone who is guilty, it puts you in a weird mindset. Why am I the fugitive from justice? Why am I being treated as if I’m the criminal: the accused saboteur? I’ve never been in this situation before. And with my son and Henry with me, I felt as if their involvement—as incredibly valuable as it was—didn’t deserve to be part of the now obvious risk. If violence had entered the picture, certain parties were getting desperate. With that in mind, and with time running out for my crew, I felt as if I had few remaining alternatives.

  I asked that Eric drive us to a Walmart store. While we waited, I wanted him to go in and buy a cell phone that allows you to purchase minutes. He said he would do that but was rapidly running out of cash. I told him to put it on his credit card—which Eric soon informed me had already reached its limits. Henry said he would take care of it. He knew I was good for the money.

  We waited while Henry went into the store. I turned on my iPad—which Eric had fortunately been charging in his car—and called up my contact numbers. A friend and fellow co-worker still worked at NASA. I needed to let him know that I had compelling data in abundance to support the idea of water ice on the moon. I could send him exact coordinates where it could be found. My only issue was not having the actual thing to also share with him. In a way, I chastised myself for having had Eric deliver all of it to Professor Dennison. Had I taken into account the long reach of the founder or Lawther, I would have known better. But now that I did, and knowing the potential impact it would have on supporting my case, I was deeply regretting what I’d done.

  Professor Dennison had seriously surprised me. I would have thought he had far more integrity than that. I glanced up when Henry returned to the car. In a matter of minutes, and while he walked back to the car, he had already activated the cell phone. He handed it to me and said it was ready. I told him how much I appreciated his help and how he’d been such a devoted and valued friend to Eric.

  I immediately reached out to Thomas Charles at NASA. I waited for him to pick up. The moment he answered, and the moment I said who it was, Thomas was astonished. But when I told him I had but a few minutes to let him know the scope of what I was dealing with, he told me to hold on; he needed to get to a secure room. I waited anxiously. It always seems to take longer when you’re in a hurry. He finally picked up. But he surprised me. “I know why you’re calling.”

  “You do?”

  He paused for a moment and then said, “You found it, didn’t you?”

  “You mean lunar water?”

  “Yes.”

  “How did you know?”

  Again he seemed hesitant. “Let’s just say that a mutual friend sent me a sample. I was just taking a look at the results when you called.”

  I knew he was referring to Professor Dennison. “So what do you think?”

  “I think you’ve hit a gold mine...something that we’ve got to keep as private as possible. If word were to get out, you know as well as I do that Russia, China, and others would be on their way as soon as a spacecraft was ready.”

  I wanted to tell him that it wouldn’t be that easy. I wanted to explain how working on the lunar surface wasn’t the idealized version everyone had accepted. I wanted to tell him any number of things but time was running out. “Look, Thomas, I need about the biggest favor anyone could ever ask.”

  “Go on.”

  “My crew is in trouble. One of my crewmembers has been injured. I can’t say for certain to what degree. But the bottom line is this: unless we get all of them off the moon, someone might die.” I know, perhaps a bit more dramatic than necessary, but when things become this urgent, expanding on the truth is required.

  Thomas paused and then said, “Let me see what I can do.”

  “Keep in mind that the corporation behind the lunar project is not to be trusted. In fact, they will do anything in their power to stop you. That, you can be assured of.”

  “I was afraid of that,” he said. “Considering the battering your reputation has taken of late, I’m not surprised.” There was an uncomfortable moment of silence and then he said, “Can I call you back at this number?”

  “Yes, at least for the time being.”

  “Okay. Let me see what I can do.”

  “I can’t tell you how much...”

  “Listen, I can’t promise anything. But if we can’t deal with this here, I’ll reach out to someone I know we can trust. This might take a day or two. Stay by your phone.”

  I hung up feeling a bit more confident. But I was also grateful that I had underestimated Professor Dennison. From our interaction, I could only assume he was doing his best to protect me. My immediate concern for him, however, was hoping that his wound didn’t prove life-threatening.

  With that, I asked that Eric head toward Lake Tahoe. He and I had once spent a week during the summer there. We had hiked around as well as done some marginal camping. It was one of those male-bonding events that didn’t go off as planned. Eric wasn’t crazy about being in the great outdoors. He missed his video games. My cooking wasn’t anywhere near as good as his mother’s. The list could go on but it would be pointless. I don’t know why that location would be any better than another, but it was at least out of the area and would offer a more remote location where I could think. Up until this point, I’d been on the defensive. I needed to turn that around. But I needed a neutral place to do it.

  Henry was the one who brought it to our attention: Ayden’s story had hit the news wire. Henry held up his iPhone and read some of the lead paragraph. It paralleled nicely with what I had told him. There was some dramatic effect that had been added. But for the most part, it was the sensational story I had hoped to get out. A news conference had even been called. More details were coming out soon. There was a photo of Ayden holding my helmet and spacesuit. If there were doubt about the veracity of my “harrowing tale,” here was the evidence. I had returned to earth like a human bullet—end of discussion.

  We ended up at one of those lesser-priced motels on the Nevada side of the state line. For whatever time was required, it would be sufficient. Again, I needed to be prepared for Thomas’s call as well as have a strategy moving forward. In case Thomas’s approach didn’t pan out, I wanted to be ready with an alternative—something that had yet to come to mind. If nothing else, perhaps I could cobble enough together to pay one of the other commercial space corporations for Raphael’s return fare? But that was a last resort at best. I’m not even sure Lawther would give another company clearance to land anywhere near Lunar Base One.


  We hadn’t been in our hotel room fifteen minutes when Eric’s cell phone rang. It was Ayden. He wanted to know if I would be available for a press conference within the hour. I could use Facetime to join the conference call meeting. Considering that we were now in full go mode, I was onboard.

  “Yes,” I said. “I’d be more than happy to be there.” The only issue was that Lawther and his stable of attorneys were ready to sue anyone that broached what they were referring to as “proprietary agreements.” In other words, my crew and I had signed non-disclosure agreements. If I said a word, they felt that had every right to bankrupt me by filing a civil lawsuit. Then they would accuse me of some as yet undefined criminal malfeasance. To put it another way, I was risking everything to get the truth out there. If this didn’t go well, not only would I be broke, but my reputation would also be ruined. At this point, the only thing that mattered was my crew. If I had to sacrifice something personal for the wellbeing of those I was responsible for, it was well worth it.

  Eric did his best to quiz me on potential questions that might get asked. I was grateful he did because that process brought back to mind things I’d forgotten or hadn’t seen as noteworthy at the time. If I’d known originally what I now knew, I would have never taken on the project. I would have seen the pitfalls that come when a corporation is supported by investors and stockholders. I would have understood that unless the project is privately funded and has well-defined parameters assigned to it, to get involved is to engage in an impossible task. Lack of funding was always going to be an issue. Personalities at the top would always do what they could to assign blame to anyone other than him or herself. If things went south, they couldn’t be held accountable. Someone else had failed to fulfill his or her end of the bargain.

  I was prepared for what was to come next when Eric’s phone rang once again. Ayden said we had a problem. His editor had been called. He was told that if my story continued and got further coverage, my crew was essentially going to go without food. If the editor and I didn’t cooperate, Lawther’s lawyers had the upper hand and said they were justified in their actions. I was outraged. I was about as close as I’d ever been to wanting to kill someone. But now wasn’t the time to go berserk. No, instead, I had to keep my wits about me. I had to be levelheaded at a time when my emotions were getting the best of me. I asked Ayden what his editor was suggesting? Ayden said that they felt it was important to take a moment to consider the implications. If my crew’s lives were at stake, they weren’t sure they wanted to be held accountable. I told him I understood. Maybe we needed to take a few hours to consider our options. The press conference was called off for the time being.