Quantum Storms - Aaron Seven

by Dennis Chamberland

  “Aaron, see that individual standing near the first aircraft – the man in the black jacket with his arms folded?”

  “Yes,” Aaron responded, looking toward him.

  “His name is Sean Conlin. You and he will become well aquatinted.”

  “And how’s that?”

  “Did you notice in your review of the Pacifica briefing that the section labeled “Government” was blank?” she asked.

  “Yes, I was going to ask you about that,” he replied.

  “It was left blank on purpose, because I wanted to explain it to you one-on-one.”

  “Huh oh, here it comes,” Seven responded instantly.

  “You must listen, Aaron. This is too significant to misunderstand. That’s why I didn’t try and present it in writing. I wanted to explain it to you in person. My father - our father - decided that Pacifica was too essential to the future of the survival of humanity to leave it up to the dictatorial whims of a single individual. While he trusted you enough to hand over the leadership position, the government of Pacifica is complex.

  “Pacifica is led by its Director, which is you. But some key decisions are made by agreement of three individuals in order of succession: the Director, the Counselor and the Judge. They’re established to balance the decision making process and they’re empowered to replace the Director if necessary.”

  “A balance of power?” Seven asked, considering the unspoken.

  “Yes, much like our government – the Executive, the Judicial and the Legislative, except far smaller and, hopefully, far more efficient.”

  “And who replaces them?” Seven asked.

  “Let’s talk about that later, Aaron,” Serea replied. “But that man over there, Sean Conlin, he’s Pacifica ’s Judge. The colony’s Counselor is its current interim Director, Commodore Frank Spencer, who’s been on site from the beginning, directing the operations and establishing Pacifica as an operational colony. He’ll be formally relieved by you upon your arrival.

  “None of you have met or know one another. Father planned it that way so that there would be no dogs in the fight from day one.”

  “With three people running the show, who can ever figure out who’s in charge from one day, or one minute, to the next?” Seven asked, not able to mask a mild aggravation.

  “I’ll let you read the document on the way out to Pacifica . There’s no ambiguity in the way it’s established. You’re the Director and what you say goes, always. You run the show at the colony. Those other two men work for you, period. But you can be replaced by them, if they decide together your rule is arbitrary or capricious.”

  “Then what happens?” Seven continued.

  “The Counselor becomes the Director, the Judge moves up to Counselor and the old Director becomes the Judge. That way, he retains his power and influence and reduces the temptation of the other two to remove him impulsively or for purely political ambition. The only other intervening factor in this leadership model is called the Sovereign.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes, it’s Father. He holds ultimate authority for the entire governmental process from Middlearth and retains governorship authority for Pacifica , and will intervene if necessary. He’s promised that his role will be hands-off, specifically not to get involved or to micromanage in any way, unless there’s a leadership crisis that can’t resolve itself. Then he has the power to make any changes he deems necessary for the well being of the colony over and above the community’s governing rules.”

  “So he’s like a monarch deciding the rule of a distant settlement, retaining sovereignty while not getting involved to any degree in its affairs.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Interesting,” Seven responded. “I’ve never heard of such an arrangement. It seems ripe for a form of group nepotism and inbreeding.”

  “In fact it is!” Serea responded easily. “So, in planning for the future of Pacifica , if the storms last more than five years, there’s a one year period where the colony holds a Constitutional Convention and free elections are then required. After that, it’s their choice. At that moment they can, and are encouraged to, sever their relationship to Middlearth. Father and I just wanted to ensure that there was a kind of simple but balanced dictatorship to handle the emergency, then allow the citizens to take the more cumbersome and drawn out road of self rule after the need for quick decision making is somewhat mediated. Who knows, perhaps they’ll decide they like the Director, the Counselor and the Judge!”

  “So what you’re saying is that I’d better hurry up and run over there to make friends with Mr. Conlin,” Seven joked.

  “No, I’m not. Father expressly forbids a meeting before we land at Pacifica this evening.”

  The final leg to Pacifica was met with some noticeable excitement by all who boarded the two sleek NASA Helicopter Jets. Few knew what to expect when they arrived. Except for Lacy Skillshakle and the children, they all knew Pacifica was an advanced undersea community, but there were few details. Many had been told, and the rumor had spread, to expect a glorified submarine, nothing more. Lacy Skillshakle had been assured only that they were going to a safe place far away and that she should ‘trust in God’. She did, and needed no more amplification since the admonition came from her husband whom she trusted next to her Creator.

  The skies cleared after they departed the small airport at Unalaska headed west toward Pacifica , some 1,576 nautical miles in the distance. With the helo-jets loaded like they were with additional weight and the unique cargo pods, when they arrived at Pacifica they would be dangerously low on fuel and had little margin for error.

  Few people slept on the final leg except for little Meghan, who was inseparable from her stuffed Bucky Bear, even while she slept. Seven and Serea continued to engage in a non-stop discussion of Pacifica . Serea acted as Seven’s tutor for most of it since she had already had several years’ advantage over him in its planning and execution.

  Seven was astounded at her depth of knowledge about the community and eventually he asked, “You know, my dear, something has occurred to me more and more as we’ve spoken.”

  “What?”

  “I’m not sure I understand why Raylond didn’t put you in charge of Pacifica instead of me. You’re certainly knowledgeable enough; you’re absolutely capable of leading, and you have the strength of character to make it work. So why me and not you?” he asked sincerely.

  Serea laughed spontaneously and looked back at him with total surprise, as though she never expected the question. Then she replied with all sincerity and evenness of voice, placing her hand atop his, “That’s very simple, my dearest Aaron. It’s because he loves me!”

  Seven looked back at her, perplexed. “Well, one can certainly take that a number of ways!”

  “If you don’t know how to take it, then you have no idea of what you’re about to get yourself into,” she responded sincerely. Then she smiled the smile only a woman who has a deep secret can smile. “And I’ve been given a formal bequest, which is linked to an essential duty at Pacifica.”

  Seven did not ask, but returned her stare in silence until she spoke.

  “In my father’s standing orders for Pacifica, if he dies or disappears for more than 14 days, then I become the Sovereign in his place.”

  Now it was Seven’s turn to burst into spontaneous laughter. “Now I see; of course, my Queen! And how could it be any other way?”

  Serea whispered into his ear, “That’s our little secret. And if you tell anyone else, off goes your head.” Then she backed away and smiled at him sweetly with the slightest hint of a wink.

  Seven gazed back at Serea, surprised by the consuming love and passion that raced through his heart and mind each time he looked at her. The next few hours were lost to him in a period of wordless touching. His hands flowed along the length of Serea’s fingers, up and down her arm, and back again across her fingers. The Pacifica files were closed. What could be learned from them now was far less valuable than the to
uch of his wife, his love, the contact with the flesh that had now become his own, the life they shared and the unknowns that were far deeper than the sky and ocean that raced beneath them.

  The helicopter jets’ engines slowed as they finally made their approach to Pacifica, making a lazy arc in the sky as they lost altitude together in tandem flight. Seven strained his eyes out the window to see if he could spot the landing platform from the aircraft, but he could not.

  “Please prepare for landing,” the pilot’s voice intoned. “Make sure your seatbelts are tight,” was all he said.

  Seven could feel the craft nearly cease in its horizontal movement, a maneuver familiar only to helicopter pilots and passengers, quite unlike the motions of a winged aircraft. He looked out the window again and, although he could see the surface of the blue ocean approaching ever closer, he could still not see the landing platform. Soon he spotted ocean spray kicked up by the spinning rotors, but still no platform.

  Agonizing seconds passed as the craft slowly descended; then finally, on the edge of his vision, Seven could see a railing alongside the edge of the platform just a second before it touched down.

  The moment the craft touched the deck, one of the pilots exited the cabin in obvious haste.

  “We must exit this aircraft quickly, very quickly please. Don’t forget any of your belongings and exit the cabin, starting at the rear, as rapidly as you possibly can.”

  Seven was surprised. Nothing had been said previously of an extraordinary or speedy exit. The pilot even seemed alarmed as he spoke and frantically motioned with his hands. Seven, Serea and the other passengers rose promptly from their seats and began sweeping up their belongings around them as swiftly as they could. Seven could see the rear door open and feel the grey, steel structure rise and fall beneath them against the ocean swells. For the first time he realized just how small the area was. Outside he could see a handful of individuals grasping the passengers and their belongings and hurrying them out hastily. He could also see the terror in the eyes of his mother, Lacey.

  “Is this standard procedure?” he asked Serea who just returned a look of bewilderment.

  Soon, Seven and Serea walked quickly out the rear exit of the VTOL onto the landing platform. Seven saw that it was indeed extraordinarily small. It was so undersized, it could only take one of the jet helicopters at a time, and the second circled slowly above them. He stopped to take in the entire scene and try to understand what was going on that could cause such near panic.

  “Hurry! Hurry, get the passengers down below!” shouted one individual dressed in a red vest with a helmet and goggles holding an illuminated orange guidance cone in each hand. Seven immediately recognized him as the landing commander.

  Seven could see that the children were already disappearing into a small covered stairwell that led down inside, along with his mother and father, when he felt a hand on his back. “Please follow that group over there,” the landing commander urged, pointing his wand at the line disappearing below the deck.

  “May I ask what’s going on?” Seven inquired.

  “Sir, please follow your group,” he replied with urgency.

  “Serea, follow them. I’m going to remain topside,” he shouted to Serea above the din. She looked at him with some measure of uncertainty, then nodded and walked slowly toward the stairwell, frequently looking back over her shoulder at Seven. “I’m going to stand out of the way and observe your operations,” he said to the obviously irritated landing commander. “Continue your duties. I’ll be standing over here.”

  The landing commander appeared speechless, and then turned to face another individual, who was well across the other side of the platform, and made a cutting motion across his throat, pointing one of his wands at Seven. The individual was barking orders and pointing at the aircraft as a small crew feverishly removed its cargo panels and, with no care at all, dropped them onto the deck before quickly moving to the next set of panels. He came running to Seven, still barking orders over his shoulder, red faced and angry.

  “Get your butt down below, NOW!” he commanded, pointing his finger in Seven’s face. On his shirt was a black plastic nametag which read “SPENCER.” On each of his collars was one silver star.

  Seven smiled a flat smile, which was more akin to a smirk, as he replied, “As soon as you explain what you’re doing. If it’s an emergency, then you can take a half second to clarify before you resume your good work, sir.”

  “If I lose an aircraft and its passengers in the next two minutes, you’ll be held responsible and tried!” Spencer replied sharply.

  “I’m Aaron Seven, your Director, and I demand a brief appraisal of what’s going on so that I may assist you, sir.”

  “I know who you are, Seven, and I’m not impressed,” Spencer sneered in his face. “Now get off my flight deck before I have you incarcerated.” He then turned around and began to bark orders anew.

  Seven walked slowly over to the stairwell, thought for a moment, and then stood beside it, out of the way, watching the operation. In minutes, the NASA X-wing helicopter jet had been stripped of its cargo pods. The second aircraft circled slowly overhead. The helicopter jet that had just landed was now powered down, but its rotor still spun slowly in the air. The crew removed the chocks from its wheels while the safety chain was pulled away from the edge of the small platform. They then began to slowly push the aircraft toward the opening. As soon as Seven realized what they were doing, he raced alongside and began to help them push it.

  “What’s the emergency?” he asked the young man just in front of him, who was also pushing the aircraft toward the sea.

  “Almost out of gas,” the man replied without even looking back. Then Seven realized the nature of the urgency. If they did not clear this flight deck, the second craft was going down in the ocean beside them. The probability of any survivors making it out as the top heavy craft upended and sank would be nil.

  Seconds before the craft went over the edge, Seven looked in the window next to the strut he was pushing and saw Meghan’s precious stuffed bear still on her seat where she had left it in the rush to depart. Seven gauged the motion of the craft and the distance to the bear on the seat. In an instant decision, he raced toward the back door and leapt into the compartment. In a single stride he reached the bear, and then backed out more quickly than he had entered. Just as his feet touched the steel of the deck, the huge aircraft upended itself and splashed down into the blue Pacific water. In less than three seconds, it inverted itself and sank quickly out of sight.

  With no invitation, the second craft was on the deck, its powerful rotor wash nearly sweeping Seven away. He bowed his head and shielded his eyes with the stuffed bear as the craft instantly shut down its engines and the crew expertly slid the wheel chocks into place. The front side doors to the huge craft opened immediately as the flight crew stepped onto the deck and the rear door began its slow movement downward. Seven looked past the aircraft and saw Serea standing just outside the doorway to the stairwell as she shook her head slowly and covered her mouth with her right hand.

  “Master-at-Arms, I want this man placed under arrest, immediately!” Spencer screamed as he approached Seven with a young man in tow who wore a white belt and a standard issue U.S. Navy, white enlisted cap.

  “Aaron, what’s going on?” Serea asked, having now approached and standing beside him.

  “Sir, please come with me,” the young man said to Seven with some obvious apprehension, placing his hand on Seven’s right arm just below the wrist.

  “You’d better take your hand off me unless you want to follow that aircraft down to the bottom,” Seven responded, looking at the Master-at-Arms with serious intent. They stood on the edge of the small platform and Seven could see the water gently splash against the walls some 15 feet below the deck.

  The serviceman unhanded him immediately and looked back to Spencer.

  “I’ve ordered you to arrest that man!” Spencer roared at the young sailor o
nce again.

  The Master-at-Arms raised his hand to grasp Seven again and Seven looked him in the eye as he pulled his arm back. “I hope you can swim, my friend.”

  “Commodore Spencer, what do you think you’re doing?” Serea demanded. She then looked at the young sailor. “Get lost, now!” she barked. The young man looked at her and then back at Spencer, stuck squarely in the middle of the building quagmire.

  “Better do what she says,” said a strong voice from behind them. “I know this woman and she’ll eat your guts out and then toss what’s left of you over the side, so go ahead, get lost.” It was Sean Conlin who had just disembarked from the last helicopter jet. The young man shook his head slowly, gave in and walked away.

  “Gentlemen! Well, how fascinating. It’s just that I thought our first meeting would be, oh, shall we say, much less interesting than this,” Conlin said. Then turning his attention to Serea, he took a single step toward her and kissed her on the cheek. “It’s so good to see you again, my dear. Lovely, as always. And I hear congratulations are in order.”

  Serea just looked back at him with a red, near-panicked face, and did not speak.

  “Commodore Spencer,” Conlin continued. “I’ve heard so much about you and I’ve researched your background. Quite impressive. So why don’t we all just retire down below and have a glass of your best and talk about this in something of a less public venue.”

  “I know my rights under our charter. And I demand, I demand, that Aaron Seven be removed from his position, here and now, and demoted to Judge, immediately. He almost cost your life, and the lives of every passenger on your aircraft,” the Commodore said, looking back at Seven who just stared at him, still clutching Meghan’s bear in his arms. “And while obstructing the ongoing emergency operation, he nearly killed himself to rescue that preposterous stuffed animal! I don’t believe that I have to say another word. He’s to be removed from his directorship immediately. No discussion is needed or required.”

  “Demoted to Judge?” Judge Conlin asked with surprise and feigned insult.