Confrontation

by William Hayashi

  John had no reply. She was right, they were right. And the futility of the United Nations, or any country making overtures for dialogue and exchange were pointless. Why should they share with their oppressors what they had created and built?

  “Your people are never going to talk to or negotiate with Earth, are they? There’s no point, is there?”

  “No, there isn’t. We know that to land one of our ships would only lead to our people being killed to obtain the technologies behind it. And although we eschew violence, if we are ever threatened, we can, and most likely will, respond with frightfully extreme force. Don’t let it ever happen if you have any influence over the proceedings.”

  “I won’t,” John said, convinced that he wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of such retribution.

  “I have a question for you. How did you get on the Jove mission? Who did you ask?”

  “No one,” he began, laughing. “They came and got me.”

  “Who, NASA?”

  “No, the board of directors of GST. They were hedging their bets as much as possible, thinking that since you and I had such a close relationship, and since I wasn’t remarried or otherwise romantically encumbered, it was worth a shot. Besides, how can you say no to the most powerful people on the planet?” he answered, smiling.

  “I see. We were wondering about that. How was the flight out?”

  “Not bad. I had a pretty steep learning curve before I ever made it into orbit, then we finished our training in orbit for several weeks before we left Earth space.”

  John described the training and filled in a little information about his crewmates. Sydney mentioned that she had probably met Dr. Roscoe in the past, and wanted to know how she was selected to lead the mission.

  After several hours, Sydney informed John she was getting very tired. When he asked if they could resume their conversation at some later time, all Sydney would say was, “We’ll see.”

  He thanked her for informing him about Joy, although he immediately sensed that the mention upset her in some indescribable fashion. He noticed that when she signed off it was with a simple “goodbye,” so he offered up the same, neutral closing and the connection was cut.

  He sat there for a good ten minutes before remembering that he wasn’t in his own compartment. When he floated out the door, he was confronted by the crew’s stares, which immediately made him uncomfortable. Susan said, “If you want, John, why don’t you take a while to digest what just happened. I would very much like to talk to you when you feel ready.” Bianca gently squeezed his arm as he drifted by on his way through the common compartment to the privacy of his own room.

  When his door was closed, Chester said, “That must have been quite a shock. I can’t say I would have handled it as well as he seems to have done.”

  “Maybe so, but what’s up with GST sending him undercover?” Sybil asked.

  “I think it’s exactly what Susan said, to make sure the media didn’t know. And it worked. Besides, the colony did call to talk to him,” Peter said.

  Bianca drifted over to Susan and quietly said, “May we speak privately?”

  Susan nodded her head, and the two kicked off and floated to Susan’s compartment, leaving the others behind in animated conversation.

  Chapter 29

  GO DOWN GAMBLIN’

  President Laughlin was frustrated being stuck in the bunker, unable to leave, see daylight or sneak upstairs to take a break. Looking for any distraction, he was relieved when the phone rang on the table before him.

  “Hello, Laughlin.”

  “Yes, Mr. President. It’s Rogers.”

  “What’s up at the FBI today?” Laughlin inquired.

  “We may have a hit on one of the separatists, sir. Someone was picked up in Chicago for a simple traffic accident and it looks like he’s one of those listed on the roster, sir. The footprint CPD pulled off of him is an eighty-five percent match.”

  “So where is he now?”

  “He’s in a holding cell at the station. What do you want to do about him, the director wants to know? He was picked up with a retired attorney from Boston—Boston, sir!”

  “Yes, I know. That’s where one of the ships disappeared. What’s the director recommending?” asked Laughlin.

  “Putting a tail on him, making sure he leads us to one of their ships.”

  “And this attorney? What’s his story?”

  “He’s retired. Almost a hundred years old. Probably a relative of one of the separatists who ended up being left behind, we’re guessing.”

  “I’m not comfortable letting this guy go. We’ve never gotten close enough to one of their ships to do anything but fire a missile at it. Is there any chance we can squeeze good intel out of him, maybe use the old guy to put pressure on him?” Laughlin suggested.

  “Right now we can do any damn thing we want, sir. He’s not leaving the station without our say-so,” Rogers said with confidence.

  “Give me an hour to think it over. I’ll call you back,” said Laughlin, cradling the phone. He sat and thought about it for a few minutes, then called upstairs to the chief of staff’s office. When she answered, he asked her to join him in the bunker.

  Ten minutes later she walked in, carrying another stack of folders for him to review.

  “Have a seat. We have a situation I want to talk to you about,” he began.

  “What’s that?” she asked, giving him her complete attention.

  “The FBI thinks we have one of the colonists captured in Chicago.”

  “How? And why Chicago?” Dawkins asked.

  “I have no idea, but he’s with a retired attorney from Boston. I don’t believe in coincidence, do you?” he asked.

  Dawkins thought about it for a moment, then asked, “Not at this point. How was he, or they, captured?”

  “I was told it was because of a traffic accident.”

  “And has anyone interrogated him yet? Asked him anything about their ships or mission?” asked Dawkins.

  “No, that’s why you’re here. We can either see what kind of information we can extract from him, or we can turn him loose and see where he leads us. I wanted to get your take on it before I call the FBI back.”

  Dawkins leaned back in her chair, thinking about each alternative.

  “And just letting him go without tailing him is out of the question, I take it?” she asked.

  “You know as well as I do that their technology is a game changer no matter how you look at it. To use that old saw, it’s a matter of national security. Believe me, I’m sorry about it too. We may just have to live with the collateral damage from grabbing one of their people, no matter how severe,” Laughlin said regretfully.

  “Are we prepared for that?” she asked.

  “Debra, I have no idea.”

  “Then, I guess you’re going to have to do what you have to do. All I can say is that whatever you do, it’s going to be interesting. Here, I brought you your homework for the day. Is there anything special you need me to bring this afternoon?”

  “No, I’m fine. I just don’t like what I’m about to do. Thank you, Debra.”

  As she rose, she gave Laughlin a pat on the shoulder and left.

  He picked up the phone and asked to be put in touch with Special Agent Rogers at the FBI.

  “Hold them for another forty-eight hours and see if they offer up anything. I don’t want so much as a hair on their heads mussed, just hold them incommunicado for now.”

  “Yes, Mr. President. May we transfer them into our custody, sir?”

  “Is that necessary?”

  “It would make things easier. Plus, we feed them better than CPD,” Rogers said, hearing the president laugh.

  “Fine, tell the director I authorize the transfer to your custody from CPD. Keep me posted.”

  “Will do, si
r.”

  Laughlin hung up the phone, hoping that he hadn’t just made the mistake of his career, the SEALs stranded on the moon a foremost reminder.

  * * *

  It wasn’t until the second knock on his door that John took notice.

  “Come in,” he said, untucking the blanket that kept him from floating around the room on the tiny currents of air.

  Susan slid the door open and stuck her head in, saying, “Dinner’s on. You hungry?”

  “Not really. And I don’t really feel like seeing everyone yet.”

  “That’s what I thought, so I brought you something to eat. I know you skipped lunch to do the EVA with Phyllis.” She saw John try to smile as he accepted the covered tray.

  “Do you mind if I join you?” she cautiously asked, pulling a second tray into the room.

  “I suppose not,” he said, offering her the desk while he tucked the edge of the blanket under the corner of the mattress again.

  Susan handed him a bottle of water from her pocket, then sat, pulling the strap over her lap to keep her in the chair.

  They unsnapped the covers on their trays to reveal steaming food held down by sauces and thick gravy. Susan said, “It’s chicken tonight. Is that okay?”

  “Sure. Thanks for bringing it. What’s everyone saying about me out there?” he asked, unable to suppress a feeling of paranoia.

  “John, don’t you worry about that. They’re worried about you. What you just went through isn’t an easy thing by any stretch of the imagination. Take whatever time you need. And if you need someone to talk to, you know Chester is trained for this kind of thing, or if you prefer there’s either Bianca or me. But I’m not here to pump you, I’m just here giving you some easy company,” she said, drawing a wry chuckle from John.

  “Susan, if there’s anything easy about you, you keep it well hidden; no offense given.”

  “None taken, I suppose I deserve that,” she said, smiling. She paused to take a bite, chewed and then asked “How’d she look?”

  “She looked great,” he answered before he realized it. “She looked almost exactly like she did the day she left, except for her hair. It’s shorter than before.” he pushed his food around for a second before he took a small bite. “Didn’t you record the conversation?”

  “Yes. But no one has access to it but me. I wanted to talk to you about the conversation first, if that’s all right with you.”

  “Sure. I’ve been going over everything we talked about since I came in here and laid down,” he said, then had another bite.

  “Anything I should know about, John?”

  “They don’t intend to take the U.N. up on their offer, the same with Brazil. They simply don’t trust us, I mean everyone on Earth. And when I look at it from their perspective, I can’t really blame them. They aren’t going to officially talk to us or Svoboda, and only Sydney will talk to me.”

  “Why’s that?” Susan asked between bites.

  “Because I have a daughter in the colony,” John said quietly.

  “What did you say?” Susan exclaimed, almost losing the food on her fork.

  “Sydney and I have a daughter. Apparently our one night together—well, you know.”

  Susan was silent as she digested this bit of news. After a few moments she asked, “And this is the only reason anyone from the colony was going to communicate with us, or Svoboda for that matter?”

  “That’s what she said. No representative of their group is going to officially communicate with either mission.”

  “How do you feel about it? The daughter, I mean.”

  “Overwhelmed. None of this, training as an astronaut, coming on the mission, even getting to speak to Sydney again, none of it was expected. And to find out that I’m an absentee dad is just the capper to my shit sandwich of a life! Sorry, I forgot you were eating.”

  Susan chuckled. “No problem. How’s the food?” she asked in subtle reminder.

  John took a few bites, mechanically chewed and then swallowed while Susan ate in silence.

  “Tell me about how you met Dean Atkins, John. That way I can kind of get the big picture,” Susan asked.

  John started the story with his being ordered to cooperate with the FBI in the investigation of a student, Jaylynn Williams. As he spoke, he gradually relaxed as he relived those happier times.

  John was surprised when he found he had finished everything on the tray. He clipped it to the side of his bunk as he continued his conversation with Susan. She, in turn, described some of the more personal aspects of serving on President Bender’s commission that she hadn’t discussed before, the issues she dealt with, impressions of the people she’d met and served with. She described the back and forth she had with the president, and her newfound respect for the office and the difficulties in managing the country. She also expressed regret that she had never been presented with the opportunity to join the colony, given its advances and unique makeup.

  “If they offered you the chance to join them, would you go now?” he asked.

  “I’ve been thinking about that question ever since the president approached me to lead the mission—what I would do if we arrived and the offer was made? I’m still not completely sure, but judging by what you were told, I highly doubt any such offer is going to be made.”

  “Why wouldn’t you jump at the chance? My daughter and Sydney aside, I’d be fascinated to join and see all the marvels they’ve been able to come up with; if I weren’t white that is,” he said.

  “Because I take my responsibilities very seriously, I couldn’t simply abandon the mission no matter how attractive the offer,” she said, shaking her head.

  The two talked two more hours, Susan talking John down from his tumultuous conversation with Sydney. When she saw him stifle a yawn, she suggested he get a good night’s sleep, and join everyone in the morning. She promised him that facing the crew wouldn’t be the problem John imagined. He agreed and thanked her for dinner and the conversation as she collected the two empty trays and left his compartment.

  * * *

  As Chuck brought Lucius and Julius up to date, two suits arrived at the cell, along with a CPD officer.

  The officer opened the cell and the suits put cuffs on Julius, then Lucius, securing their hands in front of them. They had managed to remove their earpieces and put them in their pockets, apparently without being seen, and grinned at each other as they were escorted away without being searched.

  When they were being signed out, the desk sergeant handed one of the suits an envelope containing both men’s wallets. Then the two were escorted to the parking lot and placed in the back seat of a car bearing U.S. government license plates.

  “Where are you taking us?” Lucius asked reasonably.

  “You’re being transferred to federal custody until the matter of your identity has been resolved. Identity theft is a felony, that’s why we have taken over the case, sir,” the fed riding shotgun explained.

  “And if we are who we say we are? Do we get compensation for our inconvenience?” Lucius inquired.

  “I’m sorry, sir. I don’t have that information. We’re just detailed to transport you.”

  * * *

  “Christopher, I have a video message for you from Chuck. He said for me to direct you to view it privately,” Genesis said without warning.

  Christopher got up and closed the door to his office. Then when he returned to his seat, he said, “Playback, please.”

  “Chris. I wanted to bring you up-to-date on something that’s happened here. Julius and Lucius were picked up by the police when a truck plowed into their rental car. No one was hurt, but they were taken to the station for questioning. So far, both of them have their earpieces, so G2 is able to keep tabs on them and what’s going on around them.

  “Currently, we have no idea if someone knows who they are.
G2 was able to find out that the cops called Lucius’ old law firm, but it looks like the retrovirus is biting us in the ass on this one. He doesn’t look like he’s a hundred years old, even with the work he did to disguise himself. When the cop ran Julius’ driver’s license, there wasn’t anything on it, he said. No tickets or car registrations, and you know that no darkie can get along in life without some dirt on them as far as Whitey’s concerned.

  “We’re keeping tabs on them. But if we have to bust them loose, things might get a little hairy. They’re loading up the whale tonight, and then the ground team is going to hang around topside just in case the two of them need help getting away. Let me know how you want me to play this with the council. I’ll draft them a message like this when I get your call. I suppose we could try a direct call, but the lag is still around ten minutes and personally, I ain’t feelin’ that.

  “I figure that with the two jumpers we can bust them out if we have to. Plus, you have leverage with their ship just sitting out there. What I’m worried about is if we have to break them out of somewhere, it might get messy; someone might get hurt. Another thing, I don’t want you losing your mind over this. We need smart, not pissed. Be cool, my brother. Out”

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck! Genesis?”

  “Yes, Christopher. How may I be of assistance?”

  “Where’s Peanut?”

  “I’m in my office. I just got in,” Peanut almost immediately answered.

  “Get your ass over to my office, now!” Christopher ordered.

  Less than five minutes later, Peanut charged through the door, panting. Christopher pointed to him to close the door. When the door was closed, and Peanut was seated, Christopher poured him a glass of water.

  When he caught his breath, Peanut, seeing a scary cloud of anger on his friend’s face, asked, “Um, what’s up, Chris?”