“The Others gave me additional knowledge. A muck pile load of additional knowledge.”
“A what?”
“Sorry, Janish. The process of cleaning a horse stall is called mucking. A muck pile is a pile of straw and manure that collects from mucking stalls. A muck pile is usually tall and kind of smelly.”
Everyone stopped moving, stood tall, and stared at Corb. Corb stopped, stretched to his full six-foot-three stature, and beamed his trademark smile.
“I installed a temporary portal between the compound and the warehouse. It’ll remain open until we close it.”
Everyone’s eyes opened wide in astonishment.
“It gets even better. I have voice coded the portal. You need to know the specific phrase to activate the portal. The transport phrase is the same both directions but only allows one person to enter. Before we test the portals, we are going to work on someone else learning the ability to teleport.”
Another hour of constructs and everyone except Corb was sweating. Corb walked over to Lucinda and waited for her to towel off her face.
“We are going to teleport. Remember, teleportation is not a push. The negative space creates a pull. First, I will take you. We are going to the hallway, next to the dining hall, one floor down. When we return, you can try. Give me your hand.”
Before Lucinda’s hand touched Corb’s hand, they both teleported to the hallway one floor down. Lucinda looked down and noticed their hands had not touched.
“I did it?”
“Yes. You did not worry about it. You were tired and comfortable with me doing the work. I simply put you in a position so that you would be successful. Now, let’s go back.”
“Can I do it?
“You came here, why can’t you go back?”
Corb teleported.
Lucinda demurely smiled and stepped forward, back to the make-do dojo.
The Coterie erupted in applause. Corb hugged Lucinda and turned to face the group.
“Mushin is the answer.”
Nick, unable to control his curiosity diverted the revelry.
“Now, about the portal…”
Chapter Seven
That’s the Hard Part
“A dream doesn't become reality through magic; it takes sweat, determination and hard work.” – Colin Powell
“What is wrong with that boy? How juvenile. Can we, can you, get him to change the passcode to something reasonable?”
Jan was complaining to Michelle while they awaited their turn to step into the portal and arrive at the warehouse.
“He thinks it is cute and kind of funny. Where’s your sense of humor? I like it, it makes the day start with a sly smile.”
Michelle stepped forward and repeated the phrase, teleporting to the warehouse in Northern Virginia.
“Nick the Gabnash.”
Arriving in the warehouse, Jan took two quick steps to catch up to Michelle and ask a question.”
“What does it mean?”
“What does what mean?”
“You know what I mean. Nick the Gabnash. What does it mean?”
“It is an old English word referring to someone who only seems to complain or constantly whine. Of course, Nick hates it but Corb won’t change it. Nick is begging Janish to change it, but she says she doesn’t know how.”
Jan thought a moment. Started laughing and walked into the warehouse to check on today’s shipments.
In the eight months since Lucinda learned to teleport, twelve unmanned and three manned launches resulted in ninety percent of the inner hull being completed. Work was beginning on the outer hull and the payloads were being readied with the interior partitions. When the outer hull is sealed, in another eight months, the solar panels will be turned on to provide interior heat.
Building a spaceship, in orbit, on the “down-low” is impossible. Even though the build platform was in a geosynchronous orbit, over Hawaii, thousands of amateur telescopes never diverted their gaze from the build platform.
Why Hawaii? Two reasons. The Chinese and the Russians wanted to ensure they would be able to observe the build platform from the ground. Also, the Keck Observatory, on top of Maunakea provided the “official images” of the build progress.
Estimated to require another two years to complete, the protests ebbed and waned. Officially sanctioned by every relevant government, several religious factions refused to accept the reality of humanity not being alone in the universe. For some reason, their dogmas prevented the possibility of a supreme deity and other sentient life being harmonious.
Fortunately, the technology to destroy the spaceship from land does not exist. Does not exist unless Corb provides the designs.
With several religious orders and factions refusing to accept the factitious nature of their existence, rebellions ensued. Several of the major religions suffered unapproved splits with splinter-sects forming. When the Coterie refused to genuflect, to any of the global religions, one particularly strident faction became worrisome.
A pseudo religion, headquartered in Southern California, decided their prophecies were being realized. Deliberately excluded from any form of participation in the process to build the interstellar spacecraft, the pseudo religion became aggressive. Not wanting for money, they were able to purchase a launch vehicle.
A quick retrofit process turned the cargo launch vehicle into a manned launch vehicle. A launch vehicle capable of putting four people into orbit. Not wanting for volunteers, four zealots were chosen for the mission to prove their religion was the only true religion.
Without any formal permissions, nor any expectation of safely returning the crew, the pseudo religion timed their launch to coincide with the final seal on the outer hull. The pseudo religion sent up a boarding party to take control of the build platform and the spacecraft.
“Who launched?”
Corb was standing behind a row of desks and monitors, in the security room of the Northern Virginia warehouse.
Four security personnel, Lucinda, and Ragnar were manning the consoles. NT, Michelle, and Jan were standing behind Corb.
“Please put Nick and Janish on screen.”
Corb pointed to a monitor in the upper row, on the far right. Immediately, in a split screen appeared Nick and Janish. Davinder’s voice was heard from the ceiling speakers.
“Status please.”
One of the security members spoke.
“Sir, we have an unscheduled launch. They are attempting to achieve orbit from GCS.”
“Where?”
“Sorry, GSC is the Guiana Space Centre. We thought the facility was shut down.”
NT, Michelle, and Jan all looked at each other with raised eyebrows. Clearly, the security team was not your average “rental security”.
“Thank you. Are we listening to their flight control?”
“Yes sir, I’ll pipe it now.”
Listening for a few minutes, the team heard normal flight commands. Commands regarding telemetry, attitude of the vehicle, status of the crew, were heard. The launch vehicle was called New Life One.
Davinder voiced over the chatter.
“Can we broadcast on their frequencies?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Corb, what do you want to do?”
“Put me through.”
“Crew of the launch vehicle named ‘New Life One’, this is Corb Johnson. Do you know who I am?”
Several minutes of the New Life One crew arguing with their mission controllers resulted in a simplistic response.
“Mister Johnson, this is mission control for the New Life One mission. Why are you interrupting our launch procedures? Over.”
“I am sorry, I did not address mission control. Crew of the New Life One launch vehicle, do you know who I am?”
“Mister Johnson, the crew is a little busy. I have our Chairman here, he is happy to call you directly. We need these channels clear until we achieve orbit. Over.”
“Okay, I am going to say this one time. Crew of the
New Life One vehicle, I am going to give to you a directive. Please listen carefully. You have sixty seconds to engage your re-entry protocols. If you do not begin re-entry immediately, and you achieve orbit, I will not allow you to reach the build platform.
Chief, put up a sixty-second clock.”
A center monitor on the top row blacked out and a red countdown clock appeared.
“Chief, on my mark, start the clock.
Crew of the New Life One, you have sixty seconds to begin your re-entry procedure. Do you understand the order? Mark.”
“Mister Johnson, this is New Life One commander Timmons. We are unable to comply with your request. Over.”
“Commander Timmons, it was not a request. You have forty-two seconds. Chief, at thirty seconds, make the countdown audible on this frequency, in increments of five, by ones from five.”
“Audible countdown at thirty seconds. Aye.”
“Mister Johnson, continuing to threaten us will not change our orders. We will not comply. Over.”
“Thirty seconds.”
“Commander Timmons, this is not a request, you must initiate re-entry protocols.”
“Twenty-five seconds.”
“Twenty seconds”
“Mission control, this is New Life One, booster separation complete. Apex velocity achieved. Orbit stabilization in three, two, one. Orbit achieved. Build platform rendezvous in eighty-eight minutes. Over.”
“Fifteen seconds.”
“New Life One, mission control here. Orbit confirmed, eighty-eight minutes to rendezvous. Over.”
“Ten seconds.”
“Commander Timmons, what is the volume of oxygen on-board your craft?”
“Oxygen? How is oxygen relevant? Over.”
“I wanted to know how long you will survive after I push your vehicle into space.”
“Five seconds.”
“Repeat. Over.”
“Four seconds.”
“Mission control advise!”
“Three seconds.”
“Mission control!?!”
“Two seconds.”
“One second.”
“Zero.”
Everyone waited, silence in the room and on the radio. Eventually, the radio erupted.
“Mission control, this is New Life One. We have lost control of the vector. We are drifting away from the planet. Repeat, we are drifting away from the planet. Please advise corrective action. Over.”
“New Life One, terminate all thrust. Confirm, over.”
“Confirmed, all thrust terminated. Over.”
“New Life One, sending corrective actions now. We are going to use the maneuvering thrusters to reorient the ship’s altitude and bring you back on course to the build platform. Confirm data upload. Over.”
“Confirm data received. Over.”
“New Life One, when ready, engage reorient program. Over.”
“Confirmed, engaging program to reorient trajectory in three, two, one, engage. Over.”
“New Life One, report. Over.”
“Mission control, reorient maneuver unsuccessful. Over.”
Silence ensued for several seconds before Corb spoke.
“Commander Timmons, are you ready to come home now?”
A long, silent delay, before Commander Timmons responded.
“Mister Johnson, we can’t come home. There is no re-entry pod on this craft. Either we land on the build platform or we die. Over.”
Everyone in the room looked at each other, incredulous. Lucinda turned one hundred and eighty degrees in her seat and mouthed the words: “A one-way mission?”
“Commander Timmons?”
“Yes? Over.”
“There is no oxygen on the build platform and the spacecraft is not sealed. It is open to space.”
Nick broke the silent realization with the status of the build platform and the spacecraft.
“Commander Timmons, please stand by. Chief, please cut the comms.”
“Cut all comms, aye.”
“Corb, I have an idea.”
“Go ahead, Nick.”
“If I tell you where they are going to be in space and time, can you teleport to the capsule and retrieve them? It is a bit far and hitting it exactly will be tricky, but I can do the math.”
“No Nick… I mean, if they were connected, maybe… No, it is too dangerous. It is too small and moving too fast. If I miss the capsule I will die in space. The portals are fixed relative to the motion of the planet to prevent missing the destination point. Comms up please.”
“Comms up, aye.”
Commander Timmons?”
“Yes. Over.”
“Can you stop the forward momentum of the vehicle? Can you make it stable in a geosynchronous orbit?”
“Mister Johnson, this is mission control. Please standby. Over.”
Several long minutes passed before the mission control commander spoke.
“Mister Johnson, we are unable to halt the craft’s velocity. If we use the thrusters to turn the craft around, then expend what is left of the fuel to slow the craft… it will begin to tumble. We will not be able to stabilize the craft. The tumble will continue until the craft comes apart. Over.”
After an extended pause Corb spoke.
“Mission control, New Life One, please stand by. Chief cut the comms.”
Waiting for the Chief to nod confirmation, Corb paced.
“Nick?”
“Yes, Corb?”
“Any ideas?”
“You are not going to like my idea.”
“I thought about that. Is there no other way?”
“No Corb.”
Corb had lost his smile and continued to pace. Lucinda turned back and asked.
“Can you do it?”
“Yes, I can do it. Please open the comms to the crew.”
“Comms up, aye.”
When the Chief nodded confirmation, Corb continued in a soft, conciliatory tone.
“Commander Timmons?”
“Yes, Mister Johnson. Over.”
“How long?”
“Twenty-six, maybe twenty-eight hours. Over.”
“Mission control?”
“Mission control, what can we do for you Mister Johnson? Over.”
“Please put your Chairman on the line.”
“Hello Mister Johnson, how may I help you? Over.”
“Chairman Ketner you cannot help me. I wanted you to know, after I assist the crew, I will be coming for you.
Commander Timmons?”
“Timmons here. Over.”
“Do you want to wait, maybe speak to your families?”
“No. Thank you, Mister Johnson. Our families know we were never coming home. Sooner is better.
Mister Johnson, this is First Officer Westby, thank you.
Mister Johnson, this is Communications Officer Plouff, thank you.
Mister Johnson, this is Mission Specialist Knibbs, thank you.”
“Nick?”
“Yes, Corb?”
“Can you block all comms from the craft?”
“Yes, Corb. Tell me when.”
“Do it now please.”
“Done.”
“Tell me when the craft is over central Asia.”
“Will do. ETA to mark, sixty-four minutes.”
“Jan when the craft is three minutes from hitting the mark, please find me. Thanks.”
Corb walked outside, and looked to the western sky, and waited.
About an hour later, Jan walked up to Corb who was sitting under a bright clear sky, against a tree, staring to the west.
“It is time Corb.”
“Thank you, Jan. We have come a long way from the pub in Arlington Texas. Do you regret anything?”
“No Corb, I have no regrets. I feel a little guilt because you had to kill Marissa and I remember Jeannette every day. But no, I have no regrets.
You are doing the right thing. They either had bad information or their Chairman sent them to their dea
ths. Either way you have to do it and the Chairman has to pay.”
“Yes, I know. Jan, we will anathematize the evil. We will banish the evil afraid of growth and knowledge. Give me a minute, I will walk back with you.”
“Will do. Anathematize?”
“We will curse anyone who will not open their mind to new knowledge.”
Corb closed his eyes and became silent. Halfway across the globe a hastily constructed booster, with four men aboard, began a quick descent into earth’s atmosphere. Parts of the booster did not incinerate in the upper atmosphere and splashed into the Pacific Ocean.
The four-man crew felt nothing in their last minutes.
“I am ready, let’s get back.”
Back in the security room, the silence was overwhelming.
“Pull up a map, show me the GSC command facility. Nick, give me a floor plan if you have one.”
“On it, Chief?”
“Putting it up on the main monitor. Aye.”
Corb liked the feeling of the air in the tropics. He preferred the dry air of West Texas, but warm was warm. Standing in the parking lot, of the GSC mission control facility, staring at the door, Corb waved to the satellite he knew was focused on the building.
Walking to the doors, pushing them open with a wave of his hand, the hallway was not long but was dingy. Walking slowly, reading the labels on the doors, Corb knew the command center was at the end, on the left.
A human security drone, monitoring a camera, recognized Corb was an intruder and sounded the alarm. Red lights starting flashing, sirens wailing, security personnel jumping to react. The first two armed guards came out of a door, behind and to Corb’s right.
Before they could raise their weapons, Corb waved his hand, shoving them back into the room and slammed the door.
Entering the left door Corb noticed the flight technicians where huddle together, between the large monitors and the rows of computers. Chairman Ketner was standing to the rear of the room, on an observation platform, behind two security guards. The guards where pointing small machine guns at Corb.
Waving both hands, the guns flew up, through the false ceiling, and away from the guards. Before they could react, Corb smashed the guards against each other and let them flop to the floor, slid them to side, and left them gasping for air. Corb walked up and towered over the shorter Chairman Ketner.
Time is an Illusion: The Ptolemy Expedition (Carina Book 1) Page 6