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Confrontation

Page 12

by William Hayashi


  “Thank you, Genesis. What’s up, Peanut?”

  “Do you have some time today for lunch? I want to bring Ellis by. He has something that I think is very promising and we want to run it by you.”

  When Christopher met up with Peanut and Ellis in the food line, he explained that he already ate as they started out with some catch up chitchat, but once they had selected their food and found a quiet table, Peanut immediately got down to business.

  “Okay, it’s like this. Ellis and his team have been working on a sort of parallel project to mine, but their science is quite intriguing.” Peanut then nodded to Ellis to continue.

  “Our approach to achieving superluminal transport is different from Peanut’s team. They’re looking at achieving an interdimensional push outside our universe. Ours is to compress space in front of a spacecraft and let it expand behind the spacecraft. Essentially, moving space past the spacecraft faster than light, instead of trying to propel something with infinite mass in our own four dimensions. We can show you the math and simulations we’re running on the concept,” Ellis offered.

  “And this is possible? How do you achieve the compression of space in the first place?”

  “Here, hold out your pad.”

  The two tapped pads and Christopher began to read the summary of the presentation Ellis and his team had put together.

  After a few minutes Christopher looked up and said, “If I’m getting this right, you create a kind of warp bubble around the spacecraft and then move space past it.”

  “That’s right. Space is expanding even as we speak and has been since the big bang event. The fabric of space should be able to be compressed and stretched in an extremely small local environment. What we need to do is figure out a way to accomplish this. I think the preliminary work has been done with the principles deeply buried somewhere behind your G-wave work. You’ve already laid the groundwork. I think both Peanut’s and our approaches can work,” said Ellis, grinning at Peanut’s enthusiastic nod of agreement.

  “This is good, very good. Let me go through this and get back to you.”

  “What did I tell you?” Peanut said to Ellis, slapping five with the excited researcher, then turned to Chris. “If you need to be filled in on anything, give Ellis a call. They’re really doing some top-shelf stuff.”

  “I will. Let me have a day or two to look this over. Sorry to put you off, but I’m swamped,” Christopher explained.

  “No problem. Whenever you’re ready,” Ellis said.

  Christopher thanked them and took off, late for his meeting with his wife in the life sciences department. When he arrived, Patricia wasn’t in her office so he wandered around until one of her staff pointed him in the right direction.

  When he finally found her in the fishery, he waved to get her attention. When she saw him, she pointed toward her office, indicating that she would meet him there.

  Once Patricia arrived, she found Christopher engrossed in something on his datapad. She gave him a quick peck on the cheek before she sat down behind her desk.

  “It’s on,” Christopher said.

  “You mean the mission?” she said with an excited squeal.

  “Yes, the council approved it, subject of course to a review of the completed mission plan and all the possible contingencies that we can come up with,” he explained.

  “We? What do you mean, we? Are you planning to go too?”

  “I’m thinking about it. And by we I mean a combat pilot or two, a medic and a couple of ex-marines. To treat this mission as anything but a potential combat situation would be a huge mistake. They’re going to know we’re coming and we’re going to be especially vulnerable while we load up. Getting safely past Earth’s orbit, away from the planet, probably isn’t going to be easy at all.”

  “Now you’re worrying me. Maybe you should leave this mission to those better trained in warfare. We have enough ex-military here to put together a whole squad of people to make sure nothing goes wrong,” Patricia said.

  “Trust me. I’m not going alone. Trouble is, we have nothing in the way of weapons here, but I’m not going to allow any to be built either. The ships will be protected by the best of Peanut’s shields. Lord knows our ships are faster than anything they can launch.”

  “Even missiles? Are the jumpers faster than any weapon they can send your way?”

  “I believe so. We’ll also have the advantage of Genesis monitoring the military communication channels, even encrypted ones. We’ll have plenty of warning before an attack is launched.”

  At that moment, Chuck stuck his head in the door and said, “I thought you might be here. Hey, Pat.” Chuck entered and gave Patricia a hug before sitting down. “Sorry to interrupt, but Genesis told me where Chris was.”

  “And you chased me down for what?”

  “Because I’m not convinced you should be going on this little excursion back to Earth.”

  “Not now, Chuck,” Christopher warned.

  “Why not now? What are you hiding? Chuck, what is it he doesn’t want me to know?”

  “Fuck it, go on and tell her,” Christopher said, angrily.

  Chuck gave an apologetic look to his lifelong friend, then said, “So far, this is a straight-up combat mission, no two ways about it. Genesis says there’s currently three detectors in operation in the US that can track our ships. They detect the G-waves whenever they’re in operation practically across the whole solar system. It’s my opinion that if this mission is approved, there’s going to have to be some kind of razzle-dazzle misdirection if we’re going to be successful picking up everything we’re going for and getting everyone back safely.”

  “Chris, you can’t go,” said Patricia.

  “That’s what I said,” Chuck agreed.

  “You have a son to take care of now. You can’t go,” said Patricia. “How did you feel growing up without a father?”

  “This is bullshit. Where do the two of you get off emotionally blackmailing me?” Christopher said angrily.

  “Whoa, Chris! I know you—we both do. You worry about everything and everyone, taking on the burden and responsibility for anything bad that might happen. Everyone who goes on this mission will know the risks. Those on this mission will be a volunteers and prepared as much as possible for any contingency. But the bottom line is that whatever the risk, you fucking don’t belong there!” Chuck nearly shouted.

  Patricia cut off whatever angry response Christopher was about to make with a raised hand and interjected, “Both of you, stop. You’re closer than brothers and there’s no issue, even this, that should divide you. Chuck, how far off is this mission?” she asked.

  Chuck replied, “Months, maybe a year if we’re going to gather everything on the wish list. Some of the things the departments are requesting aren’t things we can just pop into a store and pick up.”

  Looking at Christopher, Patricia asked Chuck, “Then there’s really no hurry in selecting the mission crew now, is there?”

  “Not really.”

  “Then you have ample time to hash this out, both of you. Now kiss and make up,” she suggested, smiling.

  “I’m not falling for that trap. He’s all tongue,” accused Chuck.

  They all laughed, the tension broken.

  “I don’t want anything to happen to our people. And yes, we have a long while to plan this mission. It may very well turn out that I don’t go. But to be honest, I really want to.” Christopher paused, then said, “In the meantime, let’s just drop it.”

  “Cool with me, but I’m not giving in,” Chuck warned. “You two want to grab a bite to eat?” he asked.

  “Too much to do. Maybe next time. Why don’t the two of you go,” Patricia suggested. “And Chuck, thank you for the new books for Ben, maybe you could drop by and read one of them to him.”

  “Love to. Come on, brother. I’ll
bring you up-to-date on the second probe. Good to see you, Pat. I’ll be stopping by to see Ben this week.”

  Chapter 8

  OUR HOUSE

  “Now that’s the way to celebrate finishing my astronaut training,” Patrick said to a smiling Melody.

  She pulled the sheet up from around her ankles and used a corner to wipe the sweat off of Patrick’s face, then kissed him on the nose.

  “You have to admit that it wasn’t so bad, now was it?” she asked, brushing his hair out of his face and caressing his cheek.

  “Hell no! That was tremendous.”

  “No, silly, I meant astronaut training,” she said, laughing.

  “Oh, that. No, it was interesting learning everything about using the suits and getting around the mockup of the ship in the water tank. The best part for me was that if anything went wrong the safety divers could pull me out immediately. That’s not the case when you’re in orbit and that’s what scares me to death.”

  Melody laid her head on his chest as she snuggled closer to him.

  “That’s very true, but look at how few accidents there have been in space, both for us and everyone else who’s sent people up there. Besides, you haven’t had any indication that you’ll be needed anywhere but here, right?” she asked.

  “No. The engineering team in orbit has done a yeoman’s job with assembly and testing of the drive modules. I’ve been video conferencing with them almost daily. You should see the kind of work they’re doing! It’s just like a science fiction movie.”

  “Are you guys posting videos of the work online?”

  Patrick thought for a moment, then said, “I think NASA’s public relations department has something posted on their site. I’ll see if there’s anything I can download for you later.”

  “Excellent! What do you want for breakfast?” Melody asked as she bounced from the bed and walked toward the bathroom. “I’ll fix us something in a sec. I just want to freshen up.”

  While Patrick was straightening up the bed and picking up their clothes scattered around the floor, Melody called out from the bathroom, “Hey, can you do that thing you need to do with your computer so I can check my email? I just may have a high-ticket closing coming off by the end of the week.”

  “Sure thing,” he said as he bent over to retrieve her panties, which had somehow ended up hanging from one of the knobs on his dresser. He grinned to himself as he tossed them on top of the clothes he had laid across the foot of the bed.

  Melody came bouncing out of the bathroom and gave Patrick a hug.

  “Should I make breakfast like this?” she said pirouetting in front of him.

  “That would be all right with me, but I think bacon just might prove to be a problem,” he said as he turned and rummaged around one of his dresser drawers. Pulling out a Miami Dolphins jersey, he tossed it to her and said, “Here, try this.”

  She pulled the jersey on and turned around, shaking her exposed butt at him.

  “You like?”

  “Lady, I can play peek-a-boo like this all day. However, I’m going to grab a shower and be out in a few.”

  She leaned in and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

  “See you in the kitchen,” she said, almost skipping out of the room.

  Patrick showered, dried off and was dressed in the kitchen in less than ten minutes. He poured a cup of coffee before he went to his computer in the newly appointed study so Melody could check her email and catch up with any news she was in the habit of checking out.

  When he returned to the kitchen he saw that she had gotten out his waffle iron (he was still a little embarrassed that it was from Epcot Center and made waffles in the shape of Mickey Mouse’s head) and had the batter ready to go as she had bacon and scrambled eggs cooking up on the stove. When she saw him she wiped off her hands and encircled his neck and pulled him down for a kiss.

  “My computer’s ready whenever you are,” he informed her once his lips were free.

  “Thank you!” she said as she pulled his hands behind her to park on her butt. “I’m going to start the waffles just as soon as you let go of my ass.”

  “Hey … ” he started as she spun out of his grip, stirred the batter one last time, poured just the right amount on the hot iron for the first waffle and closed the lid.

  “Could you pour me coffee while I finish the eggs?” she said dumping cut up green pepper and onions into the eggs cooking in the pan.

  Patrick set the table and when everything was ready, they sat and ate, discussing what to do on a glorious Saturday. While Patrick cleared the table and loaded the dish washer, Melody took the opportunity to check her email. The rest of the weekend was a fun, almost idyllic affair leaving both of them sad with the arrival of Sunday night.

  * * *

  “What’s up, stranger?” Pete said, dropping off a frosted glass of iced tea on the napkin before John.

  “Feels strange being on this side of the bar,” he replied ruefully. “It’s been quite the tornado these last few weeks. And thank your nephew for taking care of the house. My neighbors thought I had moved out because the grass was never that green during the summer before. Give him this for me, would you?” John said as he pulled an envelope from his jacket pocket and slid it across the bar.

  “You know that’s not necessary.”

  “I know, but I want to, regardless,” said John.

  “I’ll make sure he thanks you personally. How long are you in town?” Pete inquired.

  “The rest of the week and through the weekend. Then I’m off to White Plains, New York to look over the IBM division doing some of the fabricating and programming of the computer systems for the Jove spacecraft.” John paused to drink. “One of the programmers there has some conflicting background information that needs straightening out.”

  “You liking the gig?” Pete asked.

  “So far, so good.”

  “Waiting for the other shoe to drop?” asked Pete, eyebrow raised.

  “Something like that. So far everything’s been very straightforward. It’s everything Weston promised. Oh yeah, I did find out something interesting that just didn’t jibe.”

  “Okay?”

  “Weston runs corporate security for all of GST,” said John.

  “So he was here scoping you out after all? The head of GST’s security department counting rubber bands and paperclips in Atlanta? Does he expect you to swallow that bullshit?” Pete asked.

  “No way. He’s just biding his time until it’s time to let me know what’s really going on.”

  “Worried?”

  “What can they do? Send me off to some foreign country to be tortured?”

  “Well?” said Pete, refilling John’s glass and scooping some more ice into it.

  “Get the fuck out of here.”

  “Really, John? You don’t think a company as big as GST couldn’t snatch you off the street and fly you to God knows where and do exactly what they want to you?”

  “Look, I know you’re right. But what would be the point? I have to believe that anyone who wanted to threw a blanket over me when those folks left the moon. I don’t get any email from anyone, really. Before I started this job I never used up all my minutes on my mobile. And my mail, except for the bills, could go straight to the trash. On top of all that, except for coming here, shopping and an occasional movie, I didn’t go anywhere. Pretty damn boring if you ask me.”

  “Well something’s up, sarge.”

  “No kidding. Anyway, I wanted to drop that off for your nephew. Need a bartender for Saturday night?” asked John, grinning.

  “Can’t afford your high-priced ass anymore,” Pete said, laughing broadly. “But drop in and say hi, I’ll make sure Dwight’s here and you can thank him personally.”

  “We’ll see. Take it easy, Pete. And thanks for letting me bend your ear.”
r />   “No biggie,” Pete said as they bumped fists. “And sarge, I shouldn’t have to remind you to watch your six.”

  John drove home in silence, no radio, windows closed, with nothing but the soft buzz of the air conditioning. The last few weeks had been such a whirlwind that the silence was a welcome relief and gave him some quiet to reflect on everything Weston had said since he arrived at the Atlanta headquarters of GST.

  “Here’s your ID badge. A security key that has to be inserted into any computer before you can access any part of GST’s network, an ID card and a credit card for all business-related expenses, Mr. Mathews,” said the human resources functionary. “Here’s a card with the most commonly used telephone numbers to the security switchboard. From there you can be connected to any department and most of the department’s staff in the office and on the road.”

  “And this?” John said, pointing to a three-inch-thick blue binder.

  “That’s GST’s current policies and procedures. Sign here indicating you received it and that you will be responsible for following the company guidelines within,” she said, sliding the form across her desk. “Please read it on campus. Policy dictates it doesn’t leave your office, but if you take it to the cafeteria or the lounge that’s no problem. And if you misplace your network key, inform IT immediately so they can disable it and we’ll get you a new one, usually the same day, depending on where you are, of course.”

  John signed the form, accepted the duplicate with his signature she tore off the back, just as Weston walked into the office. “Is he all squared away, June?”

  “He is indeed. Welcome to GST, Mr. Mathews. If you have any questions about our policies, don’t hesitate to call. I’m more than happy to help you straighten out anything you run into.”

  “Thank you for getting me checked in and on my way,” said John as he got to his feet and shook her hand.

  “Come on, I’ll show you to your office, although I doubt you’ll be spending much time there,” said Weston.

  In the elevator, John asked, “So what’s on the agenda?”

 

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