Mars Journey: Call to Action: Book 1: A SciFi Thriller Series

by Bill Hargenrader

  “Can I come in?” asked Johnson.

  “Uh,” said Brent. “Uh, no. You can’t.”

  “Good,” said Johnson, and he pushed past Carlson.

  Brent shook his head as he followed Johnson into his kitchen. “And to what do I owe the pleasure, Johnson?”

  Johnson replied, “I flew in from DC to check in on some projects at Ames. Figured I’d pay you a visit since I was in the neighborhood. It’s been too long.”

  Brent’s mind raced. What could the deputy director of the CIA, turned Top Chief at NASA want with me now?

  “Are you drunk?” asked Johnson. “No matter. I’m here to see if you have any interest in finishing what you started.”

  Brent’s eyebrows arched. “Don’t screw with me, Johnson.”

  “Not screwing with you,” said Johnson. “You seem to be doing a good enough job screwing yourself up.” He paused to give a disapproving shake of his head, then added, “The Mars Journey program is a go.” You’re the first civilian we’ve reached out to.”

  “Great, good luck actually pulling it off,” said Brent dismissively. “As you said, I’m a bit screwed up right now. So why bother reaching out to me?”

  “Besides you being a world class genius with a super computer brain?” asked Johnson. “Or are you forgetting that you led our research into prolonged space flight that led directly to planning for our Mars missions?”

  “I’ve heard all this before.”

  “But have you heard the latest news?” asked Johnson. “As one of the most recognizable astronauts on the planet, the global Mars Now reality show contest has you ranked at number one in their latest poll.”

  “Wait, are you seriously planning on teaming up with them for the trip to Mars?”

  “Oh yeah. The top three contestants after you are those kids from Japan, India, and Brazil.”

  “Kids? Space is no place for kids!”

  “Well technically they’re all over eighteen, but—“

  Brent threw up his hands and turned to walk away. “I don’t care about kids or contests! I just want you to—”

  “Brent,” said Johnson, taking a serious tone. “You’re one of the primary architects of the Journey program. One ship sent to orbit Mars. That’s two years in the cold of space with a crew of 12 to include the Mars Now contestants, an American Astronaut, a Russian Cosmonaut, a European Civilian, and—of all things—a Chinese Taikonaut. That’s an insanely high level of risk, and all their lives are at stake.”

  “And money is at stake too right? It’s always about the money with you.”

  “Of course it’s always about the money. But that’s not the point, because thanks to you, this mission is happening on an accelerated schedule. After you and your wife made that speech at the UN—”

  “And my wife is dead now because of that speech!” snapped Brent.

  Brent’s words echoed through the kitchen.

  Johnson closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.

  “So forgive me if I don’t share your bold enthusiasm.” Brent crossed the kitchen to the table to grab for his bottle of whiskey.

  “Come on, Brent.” Johnson returned. “We’ve been over this before. It was a freak accident.”

  “A freak accident? Her car crashed over the side of a highway bridge with no witnesses. That’s not a little suspect?”

  Johnson said nothing.

  “Her last text to me said she was approached by a strange man in the parking lot of the NewSpace launch complex.”

  “I told you we followed up on that lead. It was simply an overzealous fan of hers.”

  “Right, just a fan. You have an answer for everything…” Brent’s words trailed off. “I couldn’t even say goodbye to her, Mike. They never found her body. How do you explain that?”

  “The river’s current was too strong—.”

  “I don’t want to hear any more of your excuses! My wife was murdered,” Brent yelled, spittle flying, “and it was Herr Graden! I just know it!”

  Brent slammed his fist down on the table punctuating his last point. His hand caught the edge of the takeout container and noodles flew in the air, catching him in the face before they slopped to the ground.

  “Wow…” said Johnson. “Just, wow. Looks like I did come to the wrong place. First off, I called in more favors on this one with my CIA and intelligence friends than you can count. Nothing was found.”

  Brent hadn’t even bothered to wipe his face.

  “And you’re lucky Herr Graden was gracious enough not to sue you for slander with your unfounded outburst to the press.”

  “Unfounded? I conducted my own investigation—“

  “And regardless of that,” continued Johnson, “Shayla would be ashamed to see you like this… And she would want you to finish what you started.”

  “Don’t tell me what Shayla would want!” Brent lunged at Johnson but slipped on the spilled noodles and crashed to the floor in a heap.

  Johnson shook his head again. “Look, I always had a soft spot for you. Despite your smart mouth, you have a good heart. I’m sorry to see you like this. But more importantly, I’m sorry I came by.”

  Johnson turned to leave. Brent, still on the ground, asked, “Are they really going with the international mission? China too?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s exactly what she… What we wanted.”

  “Well, this mission is happening,” said Johnson. “And you’re in no shape to help. Do yourself a favor. Clean yourself up. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got some jet setting to take care of. And let’s just say my hemorrhoids aren’t going to like sitting on an eighteen-hour flight to Paris.”

  Johnson made his way to the door.

  “Johnson!” Brent called.

  Johnson turned. “Yeah?”

  “Have fun in Paris,” said Brent. “By the way, do you go around telling everybody about your hemorrhoids like that? Cause that is really just TMI.”

  Johnson laughed. “There’s a glimmer of the Brent I know.” He started to leave again.

  “Wait,” Brent said as he stood, noodles dropping from him as he rose. “Why the hell did you come here in the first place?”

  “Oh, to drop this off,” Johnson said, unzipping and reaching into his binder. “A ticket to fly with me to Paris, and then China, and then to Russia, to recruit the crew of the Journey. But you don’t look up to it.” He dropped the ticket on the counter next to the door. “And maybe you should think about cutting that long hair, hippie.”

  “Not a chance,” Brent said with a forced smile as the door closed.

  He was all alone now, and the only sound came from the driving rain. Brent wiped tears from his eyes with back of his hands as he picked up the ticket. He walked back to the table with ticket in hand and looked down at the photo of Shayla.

  “I don’t know if I can do this without you,” said Brent. “I don’t know if I have it in me for one last trip around the world.”

  Chapter 7

  Johnson stood at the priority boarding lane at the airport. It was early in the morning. He was used to early mornings. He glanced down the terminal, saw no sign of what he was looking for, and shook his head.

  “Now boarding first class,” came the announcement.

  “Oh, well,” Johnson said, letting out with a sigh as he queued in the priority boarding lane.

  “Johnson!” he suddenly heard. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted someone running through the terminal. Johnson didn’t turn. He just kept his eyes down on his ticket.

  “Johnson!” said the voice, coming up from behind him. “Come on now, I know you hear me.”

  “Looks like you made it,” said Johnson, still not looking at Brent.

  “Yeah,” said Brent. “I guess so. But I’m sure you knew I would.”

  “Me?” said Johnson as the attendant scanned his ticket. “Nah, don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Brent had his ticket scanned next.

  “I’m sorry, sir,”
said the attendant. “You have to board in Zone 5.”

  Brent looked quizzically at Johnson. “Zone 5? Really?”

  “What?” said Johnson. “You expect us to buy a first-class ticket for a most likely chance of no show? This is still the government after all. Heck, I even had to use my own airline points to upgrade.”

  “Great. Guess I’ll see you on there in thirty minutes.”

  “That will give me plenty of time to tell the stewardesses not to serve you any alcohol.”

  “Well, that’s just great,” Johnson heard Brent say, as he stepped around the corner onto the loading ramp. “Now this is going to be one long flight.”

  Part 2 - Recruit the Crew

  Chapter 8 - Location: Paris, France

  By the time Brent made it to the European Space Agency headquarters, situated in the heart of Paris, Sebastian Schmidt, the Administrator for the European Space Agency, had been at the podium for quite some time. Brent quickly took a place next to Johnson.

  “Can’t believe this place is located directly in the middle of the city,” Brent whispered to Johnson. “Traffic was horrible.”

  “What’s horrible is you didn’t pack a suit,” replied Johnson. “You would have been just fine if you hadn’t had to stop off and buy one.”

  Brent responded with a shrug.

  “Today is a great day,” said the administrator. “Dr. Andrea Martine, in partnership with Herr Graden and GradenTech industries, will be going to Mars as part of the Mars Journey Program. Her secondary backup is the British astronaut Keith Davies. Let’s give them a round of applause.”

  The packed room gave a lengthy standing ovation. Brent was still reeling from the GradenTech partnership announcement when he realized he was the only one not standing. He stood and joined in. He looked over to Andrea standing close by, and their eyes met briefly. She looked away before he could say anything.

  After the clapping died down and everyone regained their seats, Schmidt continued. “Andrea is no stranger to space. She was a pioneer in the Commercial Space Productivity and Exploration program, and has been to space on three separate occasions. Andrea, please come say some words and answer some questions.”

  Andrea approached the mic amidst applause. Her short hair was now a darker shade of red, and even though Brent had worked with her a few times since the rescue mission on the doomed Pisces, he was still taken aback at the contrast in Andrea from before. On the many research videos and news clips that Brent watched on long nights asking too many “what if?” questions, Andrea pre-Pisces seemed an upbeat idealist. This version of Andrea taking the mic, seemed to be all cold hearted business.

  “Thank you all so much. For those who were present, you’ll surely know that Administrator Schmidt covered a great deal of mission information earlier.” Her eyes subtly glanced over to where Brent was seated. “Suffice it to say I am very excited for this opportunity. I have dreamed of going to Mars ever since I was a girl. All of my research has been preparation for this trip. Please, do you have any questions?” she asked.

  A reporter from Channel Une News spoke up. “Why do you think, with all of the poor and homeless and hungry people in France, we should be dedicating our precious money to space travel?”

  “We will always have poverty,” said Andrea. “We will always have hungry people. That is a sad state of affairs, but it is the truth. And will remain so until we have technology to treat their mental conditions quickly and cheaply, technology that can provide low-cost, nonperishable, high-density nutrition, and we are working on just such programs with our new partnership with Gradentech on the Mars Journey Mission. We can sit back and watch others suffer and wonder why, or we can get off our asses, take on major challenges, and let those less fortunate bask in the benefits of such accomplishments.”

  “That may explain poverty, but what about government spending?” said a journalist from PNN News. “That’s through the roof. After bailing out many nations, there are some who think we are at the end ourselves?”

  “Do you know how many great civilizations have died?” said Andrea. “How many great extinctions have occurred throughout the course of history? We are in the middle of a runaway, man-made extinction. We are in the middle of a collapse of society as we know it. One of the hallmarks of fallen civilizations is that they have done nothing to stop it until it’s too late. Here’s the thing. You can’t think yourself out of the hole. You have to climb. Only through great works can we achieve great results. We are at risk of blowing ourselves up, of warring with our neighbors over oil and water and honor. In order to get past that, we need to get past this petty race for yesterday’s scraps, and get busy working on technology that will usher in tomorrow’s abundance.”

  The reporters stared with their mouths agape in the face of Andrea’s fierce proclamations.

  “And don’t even get me started on the risk of an asteroid strike,” she continued. “Jesus. We can spend billions of dollars bailing out a fiscally irresponsible nation that doesn’t want to work hard or be financially intelligent, but to propose that same amount to ensure the survival of our species is actually up for debate? Really? That’s all the questions I’ll be taking, for now. You can find any other answers in my new book that just launched today, The Mars Ultimatum. I’m sure Keith Davies has many things to say to you. Au revoir!”

  Cameras flashed and reporters surged as Andrea walked off to the side of the stage toward the stairs. Brent cut off her path and stood there clapping overdramatically. “I wanted to say congratulations. Well done, and well deserved.”

  “Oh, so very good to see you too,” Andrea said. “Well, how did you like that?”

  Not wasting further words or sarcastic gestures, Brent stepped forward and said, “What are you thinking? When you make a deal with Herr Graden, you make a deal with the devil. Remember that the devil always comes out on top.”

  “And working with Ken Solum is any different?” said Andrea. “Solum and his New Space Enterprises are the ones funding your little trip around the world, and you had no problem taking both Solum’s and Graden’s money to support our earlier joint research projects like the Unified Mars Path Papers. And let’s not forget their money was all over you and your wife’s endeavors…”

  Brent arched his eyebrows.

  “Oh” said Andrea. “I’m so sorry, Brent. I didn’t mean to bring her up. It took me such a long time to get over Jean Louis…”

  “Yes, there is a difference,” interrupted Brent before the feelings of guilt that rose up in his stomach could stop his momentum. “The difference is intent. It’s the difference of knowing what one is trying to do.”

  ”Fine, if that’s how you want to be. Just don’t confuse yourself. When you start trying to figure out men like Solum and Graden you have no ground to stand on. It’s not worth your time.”

  “That shouldn’t stop you from trying to figure it out.”

  “Such a charming man as usual,” said Andrea. “I really must be going. I have a trip to Mars to plan for. Enjoy the city. We have some of the finest wine in the world. I read you are partial to drink as of late, no?”

  “Wait, where did you read that?”

  Andrea just gave a snide look in reply as she walked off, though Brent thought he caught a glimpse of her expression turn to worry as she headed for the stairs.

  Well that woman hasn’t changed a bit!

  He stepped out on to the streets of Paris, his eyes scanning the streets, the neat, white façades of the architecture. His eyes drifted to the signs in the cafés.

  Vin, bière, aperitif… thought Brent. You know what, I’m actually feeling like I’ll just have a coffee. Shows what she knows.

  Brent started to take a step forward when he felt the tug of something on his shirt. He turned to look behind him, saw no one, then looked down into the upturned, smiling face of a kid with a rocket ship in one hand and a smartphone in the other. He was probably twelve years old and wore a “Mars or Bust” t-shirt.

&nb
sp; “Monsieur, are you an astronaut?” said the kid.

  Brent crinkled his nose and raised his voice a little. “Do I look like an astronaut?”

  The boy averted his eyes. “No… but my dad said you were one of the best.”

  Brent looked past the boy. Nearby stood a man, presumably his father, also wearing a “Mars or Bust” shirt.

  “I didn’t believe him, though,” added the kid as he turned to walk away.

  “Wait…” said Brent. “Your dad is partially correct. I was an astronaut.”

  The boy turned back, excited. “Really?! I’m going to be an astronaut, someday. I’m going to live on Mars!”

  Brent couldn’t help but laugh. “Really, now? And why is that?”

  “Because it’s cool! And it gets me excited, and it will be great to look back to Earth from another planet and wave to my friends and family.”

  “Because it’s cool,” said Brent. “That’s a perfectly fine reason.”

  “But when I tell the kids at school, they just laugh at me and say I’m too short.”

  Brent ducked down to the boy’s level. “Really? Too short? That shouldn’t be a problem. Regulation suits accommodate persons as short as 1.5 meters. As a matter of fact, being smaller has its advantages in tight quarters of space.”

  “Really?” said the boy, lighting up.

  ”Oh, yes,” said Brent. “Want to know the secret to becoming an astronaut?”

  “Hell yeah!” The boy covered his mouth and looked back at his dad. “I mean, yes, sir.”

  Brent laughed again but quickly regained his sincere demeanor. “You have to want it more than anything. You have to believe in it more than anything. You have to start training right now. You have to do really good in sports, and you have to do really good in school. You have to be productive and kind, and volunteer, and do interesting and exciting things.”

  “So, you’re basically saying I have to be a good person in order to be an astronaut?”