The Gods We Make

by Eric Johannsen

  Sara didn’t have an answer. The Chinese spacecraft accelerated away from Earth slightly faster than the American craft could, once it was ready, and probably carried more fuel on board. The Americans would not be able to launch for another sixty hours even if everything went precisely according to the dizzying schedule. Every moment the Americans were still preparing, the Chinese drew closer to rendezvous with the deepest mystery ever to confront humanity.

  Florida

  Dylan, Musa, Ian, and Chad sat in beach chairs watching gentle waves roll onto the cinnamon-dusted sand of Cape Canaveral. A dozen willets searched the shoreline for small crabs, poking their three-inch-long, narrow beaks into the sand. A La Niña weather pattern this year prevented cold fronts from reaching into the Deep South. The sun was high overhead, heating the sand and the astronauts’ skin. Dylan pushed up his wide-brimmed straw hat just enough to peek out. Sweat rolled down his cheeks. “Musa, grab another round of beers, would you?”

  Musa was rolling a pinch of sand through his fingers, observing it up close, engrossed by the Coquina shell fragments that lent it a distinct orange hue. “I think it’s your turn, Commander.”

  Both men abruptly sat up and locked eyes. “Rock, scissors, paper!” they said in unison. Dylan’s scissors cut Musa’s paper. Dylan settled back in his chair and pulled his hat over his eyes.

  “How do you do that?” Musa asked.

  “Do what?” Dylan asked.

  “You know what. You beat me at least two times out of three.”

  “Guess I’m just lucky,” Dylan, a half-smile peeking out from under his hat.

  “He’s reading you,” Chad said. “You probably have a tell.”

  “A tell?”

  Ian was playing a combat simulator on his aiDe, only half following the conversation. Still mentally in his sim, he said, “A tell is something you do before you act that hints at your next play. Maybe the way you squint, or the way you hold your hand or move your shoulder.”

  Musa played several rounds of rock, paper, scissors with himself while observing his gestures. He seemed puzzled.

  Dylan grunted impatiently.

  Chad hopped up. “You ladies just stay seated. I’ll get the beer.” He crossed the burning sand, shuffling his feet a centimeter or two under the surface to avoid the worst of the heat, and disappeared into an old RV parked at the edge of the beach. NASA was written on its side in large, fading letters. A moment later he returned, jumping with long strides, muttering, “Ouch, ah, hot,” with three bottles of Shiner Bock in one hand. In the other, he clenched a bottle of Boylan’s Root Beer and Dylan’s ancient phone. He tossed the ringing antique onto Dylan’s lap, squatted down long enough to place the drinks in the sand, and continued straight to the water’s edge. The willets scattered out of his path, chirping their indignation. “Ahhh,” he said as the soles of his feet cooled. “I knew I should have packed my flip-flops.”

  Dylan picked the phone from his lap. I should have left the thing back at quarters. He glanced at the display then took the call. “Commander Lockwood.” The voice on the other end shared unpleasant news. After a moment, he shook his head. “Is that confirmed?” Another short pause. “I see. OK, thanks for the heads up.” He sat back in his chair and drew a deep breath. “Boys, the Chinese launched a ship toward Jupiter.”

  Musa and Ian stared at him in shocked silence. The only sound was the gentle splashing of waves.

  “We’re too late?” Musa’s eyebrows pulled together. “They’ll beat us to Jupiter?”

  Chad walked back from the water, tiptoeing over the hot sand. He buried his feet and studied the other men’s expressions. “What?”

  “China,” Ian said. “They just launched a ship toward Jupiter.”

  “Are we too late?” Chad asked. “Will they beat us there?”

  “Welcome to the party,” Dylan said with a smirk.

  “What?” Chad seemed perplexed.

  “Look,” Dylan said. “We’re launching in three days. It’s a long trip. Plenty can happen.”

  Chad picked up his beer from the sand and twisted it open. “What if we get there about the same time as them? How do we handle that?”

  Dylan thought for a moment. “It’s a vital national security interest that we learn the secrets of whatever’s up there first. If we’re both there at the same time, we’ll need to be smarter than them.”

  Musa frowned. “We should reconsider bringing weapons along.”

  “Weapons? Aboard a spacecraft?” Dylan asked.

  “What if they have weapons? You know better than anyone the Chinese aren’t timid about using force when their interests are at stake,” Musa said.

  Dylan tapped the scar above his right eyebrow. “You don’t need to remind me of that, son. But I’ll be damned if I’m going to arm my spacecraft.”

  Chad stood. “Look guys, there’s not a lot we can do about the Chinese today. Best thing is we stay relaxed. If we get all worked up, it’ll be harder to outsmart them when the time comes.” He peeled off his shirt. “For me, that means body surfing while I still have the chance. Anyone want to join me?”

  “You go ahead Chad,” Dylan said.

  Chad sprinted into the light surf until he was waist deep then dove over a small wave. He floated up to the clear surface and swam out into deeper water.

  Dylan’s phone rang again. A voice on the other end said, “Sorry Commander, the flight surgeon doesn’t want Dr. Tanner to go swimming. There’s too much risk of an ear infection.”

  “Roger that. I’ll let him know as soon as he gets out of the water.” Dylan hung up the call.

  #

  Astronaut quarters at the Cape were not glamorous. Chad didn’t need much, but he did need room for his yoga mat. He pushed the bed aside and laid the mat out in front of a sliding glass window with a view of a glorious sunset then began his daily routine bathed in golden sunlight. In the middle of downward dog, there was a knock on the door.

  “It’s open.”

  Dylan let himself in and looked at Chad’s yoga pose with amusement. “Are you going to fulfill every single stereotype I have of you left coasters?”

  “Yoga’s great exercise, Dylan. It benefits your body and soul. Pull off your boots and come over here. I’m glad to give you a lesson.” Chad looked serious.

  “I have a better idea. Get your goin’ out flip-flops, or whatever it is you wear when you hit the town.”

  “Why?”

  “’Cause we’re going out.”

  “We’re in quarantine. We can’t just go out.”

  “What are they going to do, replace us for the mission? Come on, you said it yourself. We need to stay relaxed.” Dylan saw hesitation in Chad’s face. “Come on, I promise to get you home before you turn into a pumpkin.”

  The two sneaked off base and into a busy Irish pub. A band wearing traditional dress played a lilting melody. Several patrons cavorted on a small, wooden dance floor, but most sat at well-used tables, or at the bar, sipping pints of beer and quietly chatting.

  “Two Shiner Bocks, barkeep,” Dylan said.

  “Sorry sir, we don’t carry that brand.”

  “No Shiner Bock?”

  “I’ve got you,” Chad said. “We’ll have two pints of Smithwicks.” He pronounced the name Smidth-iks.

  “Aye, two pints fir ya.”

  Dylan skeptically eyed the brew then took a careful sip. “I thought you were ordering us beer.”

  “Give it a chance. Don’t be so set in your ways,” Chad said.

  “I like my ways.” Dylan sniffed the beer like a hunting dog taking up the scent then sipped again. “Well, I suppose if it’s all they got…” He lifted his glass. “Here’s to our crew, may God bless our undertaking.”

  “Here’s to our crew.” Chad toasted with Dylan.

  “You’re a religious man, Dylan?”

  “I believe in the Almighty. I have kept my faith in Him, and he’s kept me safe.” Dylan took a long swig of beer. “What about you? Do you b
elieve in God, or do you just meditate at an ashram?” Dylan chuckled. “Sorry. I shouldn’t kid you about religion.”

  “It’s OK.” Chad sat back in his chair and stroked his chin. “As long as I can remember, I pictured what might possibly work then figured a way to make it happen. That’s how my mind functions. Hypothesize, test, accept or dismiss. I guess you could say the scientific method is hard-wired into my DNA.” He thought for a moment. “God, well that runs contrary to my DNA. Faith and belief can’t be tested. You can’t prove there is a God. Neither can you prove there isn’t one. I don’t discount anyone’s faith, but I can’t share it either.” Chad’s breath flowed out through his nose. “Sometimes, I wish I could.”

  Dylan rested a hand on Chad’s shoulder. “It’s OK, I have you covered. I have faith enough for the both of us.” He patted Chad’s back then turned to the bartender and shouted over the noise of the bar. “Two more, if you please.”

  A pretty woman with curled blond hair looked up from a few seats down. “You boys from Texas?” she asked.

  Dylan gave her a friendly wink. “Ma’am, never ask a man if he’s from Texas. If he is, he’ll tell you on his own. If he ain’t, no need to embarrass him.”

  Chad said, “Anyhow, you can always tell a Texan. You just can’t tell him much.”

  The woman burst into laughter. “Meg. Megan Anderson.”

  “Miss Anderson, would you care to-” Dylan said.

  Chad placed a firm hand on Dylan’s shoulder. “Time to go, buddy.” A man in a short-sleeved white shirt and tie stood uneasily near the door, scanning the establishment.

  Meg’s eyes narrowed and darted from the pair to the awkward man by the door and back. “You two… you’re astronauts, aren’t you?”

  “I’m an engineer,” Chad said. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Meg.” He nodded then headed for the door.

  Dylan ambled toward her and gestured as if tipping a cowboy hat. “Pleasure, ma’am. It seems my carriage has arrived. Would you do me the honor of a dance before I head on back?”

  Meg smiled and took his outstretched hand. Dylan managed to lead her gracefully through the Texas Two-Step set to Irish folk music.

  Chad waited next to the NASA man and watched the pair dance. “He’s light on his feet, isn’t he?”

  “Sir, I have orders to bring you back immediately.”

  “The way I see it, you can wait for him to finish the dance or tell him he has to go home now.”

  “I see your point.” The man shifted his weight back and forth not at all to the rhythm of the music.

  The song finished and the two dancers ended up on the far side of the bar. Dylan tipped his imaginary hat again and walked toward the exit, leaving Meg with a quizzical expression on her face. He approached and glanced at a NASA badge affixed to the awkward man’s shirt. “Shall we head home, David?”

  #

  “I hear you got yourself into a wee bit of trouble last night.” Ian sounded amused.

  “The way I see it,” Dylan said with heavier than usual drawl, “if NASA can trust me to fly a ship all the way to Jupiter, they can trust me to have a few beers and dance with a lovely lady without wrecking the mission.”

  “I’m not sure Roy Evans sees it that way.”

  “Nope. I reckon you’re right.”

  The two returned their attention to a holographic simulation of the Jupiter Express command deck. Ian practiced a docking procedure.

  “Did he say anything?”

  “Roy? Naw.”

  The door slid open. Roy Evans stepped in, arms crossed over his chest. “Dylan, in my office please.”

  The astronauts shot each other a glance.

  “You too, Ian.”

  “Um, Ian wasn’t out with me,” Dylan said.

  “It’s not about that. If only that stunt of yours made even the top ten of my worry list.” Roy walked out of the holo-room.

  Dylan and Ian followed without hesitation. No words were spoken on the five-minute trek to Roy’s office. He stomped through the door and gestured with his hand, causing the glass walls to become opaque. “Shut the door.” Roy strode to his desk and plopped down in his utilitarian office chair as the door slid shut. The astronauts stood at attention.

  “Ian, I got a call from the FBI. They told me about your run-in with the Chinese.”

  “Chinese?” Dylan asked. “What the hell?”

  Roy’s look indicated it was most definitely not Dylan’s turn to talk. “The Major has quite a gambling debt. The Chinese got hold of the marker and tried to blackmail him. He contacted the FBI right away.” Roy stared at Ian, his eyes narrow. “Bottom line, you never should have put yourself in that position in the first place. If I had my way, I’d give your ass a real good chewing and send you back to your duties. The Administrator doesn’t see it that way. Straight from the top, Ian. You’re off the mission.”

  “Off the…” Dylan threw his hands up in disbelief. “Off the mission? You can’t do that, not so close to launch.”

  “I didn’t do it, Dylan. The Administrator did. It’s not up to me.”

  “It’s not right. It’s downright dangerous. You can’t replace a crew member and expect any mission to go smoothly, let alone this mission.” Dylan rubbed the scar on his temple. “You best let the backup crew know they’re going up.”

  “Dylan, no. Don’t go there. We need the A-Team on this mission, and you know it.”

  “Ian is part of the A-Team. We need him in order to be a team. No Ian, no team.”

  “Don’t be obstinate.”

  “I’m not. I’m being a realist.” He turned and glared at Ian. “I’m pissed off, too.” Dylan let that sit for a moment. “But he’s the best qualified for the mission.”

  “Dylan, it’s OK, I’ll step down,” Ian said, eyes lowered.

  “No, it’s not OK. Not by a long shot. You don’t have a say in this. You trained for this job, you’re going to perform.”

  The door opened and Chad Tanner walked through.

  “Dr. Tanner, this is a bad time,” Roy said.

  Chad, undeterred, stepped right up to the Director’s desk and took a seat. “Roy, I just heard. I’m concerned. I’m concerned for Ian and for the mission. I understand why the Administrator’s so upset. Heck, I would be too.” Chad picked up a model of the Jupiter Express from Roy’s desk and studied it. “This mission is too important to fail. Not just for NASA, not for the country. For humanity.”

  “That may well be,” Roy said, “but the mission will be conducted by NASA, and our Administrator has the final say.”

  Chad placed the model back on the desk. “We’re smart people. I’m sure we can find a solution to this. Step one, take care of Ian’s debt. How much do you owe?”

  Ian, still at attention, shifted his weight. “A little over six hundred thousand dollars.”

  “Six hundred-” Dylan’s jaw fell slack.

  “Done,” Chad said. “Tell me where to send payment. The debt will be settled within the hour. No strings.”

  “Chad, I can’t.”

  “Sure you can. And you will. You’re a good man, and I’m glad to be in a position to help you out. I’ll think of it as the price of my ticket to the adventure of a lifetime.”

  “I don’t know what to say.” Ian sighed relief. “Thank you.”

  “Roy, I understand and respect the Administrator’s position. However, she too has a boss. I’ll call in a few favors in Washington. I’m sure we can iron this out.” Chad stood and clapped his hands together. “Problem solved then.” He walked out the door.

  “How exactly did he know?” Dylan wondered aloud.

  #

  Chad walked into his quarters and the door slid shut behind him. “Tyson Webb,” he said. Seconds later, Tyson’s image appeared.

  “Problem solved?” Tyson asked.

  “Yep. It only cost us six hundred thousand,” Chad said with sarcasm. “Plus, we’ll need to buy another favor from the White House to get him reinstated. What do yo
u think that’ll cost us?”

  “Another two hundred, give or take.”

  “Two hundred thousand just to get an astronaut off the shit list?”

  “The president’s no fool, and some of his key allies are up for a tough re-election battle. He knows how valuable the Jupiter thing could be. It used to be that people with money held the power. Not anymore. Not when it comes to this.”

  “I suppose you’re right.” Chad reflected on Tyson’s statement. “There’s a change in the wind. If there is technology up there and we want to remain players, we have to outsmart the politicians. They don’t usually have leverage, but they sure wield it expertly when they get it. The president isn’t the only one that senses the shift in power between politics and money. If this thing really is a thing and we return it to Earth, Congress will write up laws governing commercialization efforts. We can either pay through the nose to get access, or we can get an advantage nobody else has.”

  “You’ve got that right, boss,” Tyson said. “Why didn’t we let the replacement go? I understand Ian’s as competent as they come, but his alternate is also quite the talent.”

  “The replacement is an unknown. We have enough unknowns. If all goes according to plan, I’ll be alone with Ian in the alien structure. I understand him well enough, and the man owes me big time now.”

  “You think he’ll play along?”

  “Not if I outright ask him to do something he considers wrong. He’s dutiful. Honorable. But if I ask him to check out A while I investigate B? He’ll go along with that.”

  “I sure hope you’re right. We have invested plenty in this.”

  “I’m right.” I have to be.

  Into the Dawn

  “Hey. Slow down, Dylan.” Ian’s chest heaved, his breaths forming a wispy fog that streamed around his cheeks in the brisk predawn air.