Confrontation

by William Hayashi

  “He offered me a job, which I initially suspected wasn’t on the level, but I was curious. And the benefits were out of this world.”

  “Literally, as it turned out,” Adams said, grinning.

  “You got that right. So I got into the groove of the work. It was interesting, required me to travel hither and yon; it was a lot like being a cop again. Anyway, one day I was summoned to a meeting in New York only to find that it was with GST’s full board of directors. Essentially they made me an offer I couldn’t refuse. So off I went to Houston to train for the mission.”

  “But your name wasn’t mentioned as one of the crew, how did they do that?”

  “I went under another name.”

  “Holy shit! That’s some real juice the board must have,” Adams said in quiet respect.

  “Those kind of people are a government in and of themselves, plus they were pretty much footing the bill for the construction of the Jove spacecraft,” John agreed.

  “Did anyone on the crew know who you were?”

  “Not at first. Then Ambassador Ortega got a report from some U.N. spook who had somehow dug up the information. She confronted me privately but didn’t spill the beans. Then Dr. Roscoe figured it out on her own, not exactly who I was, but that I wasn’t whom I was pretending to be. When we got out to the separatists’ habitat, the jig was up. Sydney called the ship and asked for me by name. Somehow the separatists found out I was on the mission and she asked to speak to me. And that’s when I found out I had a daughter.”

  “Jesus, John! That’s like right out of a docudrama. Congratulations, I guess.”

  “Yeah, thanks,” John replied with a sad smile. They continued to talk about the separatists, Adams telling John about the apparent control they had over computer networks, reaching even into the White House bunker. John described the trip back to Earth at five hundred thousand miles an hour, and the wonders of being in space.

  While they were talking, Adams’ mobile phone rang. The conversation was brief, Adams pretty much answering in monosyllables.“You’re in luck, John. A government Gulfstream is going to be here in about half an hour to take you back to Houston. You’ll be riding in style!”

  “BFD! All I want is my life back. I liked working for GST. The people I worked with were really topnotch. But I can just as easily tend bar again too.” John paused a moment, then continued, “Robert, I’ve had enough adventures for a few lifetimes. But the bottom line for me now is that I have a daughter I will never see again, all because this country still fucks over blacks, Latinos, anyone who isn’t culturally-approved white. I’m not happy about that. My best friend owns the jazz place in Atlanta where I tended bar. He’s a former Vietnam vet like me, but every now and then he’ll let slip how his life is different from mine just because our skin colors are different. Look at what racism lost to this country. If those people had stayed on Earth, and shared their discoveries with the world, imagine what kind of life we’d be living now. I mean look at how you were forced to chase them off this planet, you can’t be happy about that.”

  “No, I wasn’t. Now that it’s plainly obvious that they present no real threat to us unless we mess with them first, trying to stop and hold them again was foolish,” Adams agreed. “I’d much rather be chasing after people who genuinely wish us harm, not people who have decided to hell with us until we get our cultural shit together. In any case, we have to get a move on and get you back over to Signature. I have the stuff you wore on your way up here in the trunk. You can keep the duds you have on, courtesy of Uncle Sam.”

  Adams paid the bill then took John to the private hangar side of O’Hare. This time John wasn’t being hustled cross-country in a fighter, but instead on one of the government’s fleet of luxury jets reserved for visiting dignitaries. Adams gave John a duffle with his NASA jumpsuit and the rig they dressed him in to ride in the fighter. They shook hands and Adams watched as John entered the aircraft, laughing to himself, knowing just what awaited the former detective.

  Aboard the aircraft, a very pretty, uniformed woman took the bag from John to stow away. In the cabin, another uniformed woman showed him to a seat and asked if there was anything she could get for him in the way of food or drink, such drinks including the alcoholic type. A pilot, a copilot and two flight attendants just to ferry him back to Houston. Let it never be said that Uncle Sam is stingy, he thought.

  They were on the ground for a while longer than the T-38 John arrived in, obviously not having the same priority clearance, but once they were on their way the ride was smooth and quiet. John had no real needs to be met on the flight, so the two flight attendants ended up playing cards while he dozed, still not fully acclimated to being back in one-G.

  Two hours into the flight, John woke from a nap and found he was hungry. He signaled one of the women and asked for some kind of sandwich. To his surprise she asked him exactly what he wanted. He told her he would like a club sandwich to see what she’d say. To his surprise she told him it would be coming right up. The other attendant jumped up and asked what John would like to drink, also happy to have something to do.

  John’s impromptu lunch was exactly what he needed, but he noticed that neither woman tried to engage him in conversation, leading him to conclude that they were instructed to respect the privacy of their passengers. Once he finished, John was sleepy again and dozed until they began their descent into Ellington field.

  On the ground, John carried his duffle through the terminal, intending to catch a cab back to the Johnson Space Center. At the exit, he saw a sedan with government plates double-parked. When the driver spotted John, he got out and hurried over.

  “John Mathews?” the driver asked.

  “I am.”

  The driver started to take the bag with the flight suit and helmet, but John stopped him and said, “This stuff I got here. Do you know where I should drop it off?”

  “Not to worry, I’ll take care of it sir. Dr. Milton said to take you directly back to the center.”

  The two got in the car and John was quickly taken back to the space center complex. When he arrived back at his room there was a note from Dr. Milton taped to his door, asking John to give him a call when he got in. Seeing no one else about, John called Milton. The two chatted for a few minutes. Since the others were all in post-mission debriefings, John decided to take it easy and skip dinner, hitting the sack early.

  The NASA medical staff resumed examining and testing John at six the next morning, making up for lost time, and the first day’s gauntlet was grueling. When he was finally released, it was past dinner time and again John was too tired to eat. He returned to his room, flopped on the bed, and just lay there, exhausted. He didn’t know he’d fallen asleep until he heard a soft knock on the door. When he told whomever it was to enter, he was surprised to find it was Bianca.

  “We missed you at dinner tonight, John. More super spy stuff?” she asked, sitting down at the foot of the bed.

  “Nothing like that. I think the doctors around here were passing along a little torture for me having jetted off to Chicago and messing up their schedule. What did all of you do today?” he asked.

  “We had the day off. I caught a ride into town with Susan and we did some light shopping, a couple of the others took in a movie. I have no idea what the rest were up to. You feel like talking about what happened in Chicago?” she asked.

  “Sure, I wasn’t told it’s classified or anything. I was flown there to talk to the two separatists who the government had in custody for over a week. It was kind of surreal actually talking to Walker and Stanford after being able to reconnect with Sydney again. Walker, the older one, did most of the talking. It’s just so extraordinary what they’ve been able to do since they left Earth. He’s a sharp cookie, and if he’s really almost a hundred years old, that’s even more remarkable,” said John.

  “What about the other one?”

 
“Stanford? He was a lot younger, and he was a little more prickly. The three who got them equipped and in the water also appeared younger.”

  “What did you say when you approached them?” she asked.

  “When I walked into the bar only Walker saw me and I just came up to the table and said ‘I’m John Mathews and I’m Joy’s father,’ then Stanford invited me to sit down. We ended up talking about a lot of things, mostly about why they left, and a little about what they think about this country. There’s no doubt that they have advanced so much further than we have, and I couldn’t tell you whether if they stayed in this country their discoveries and technical advancements would have still been made; I tend to think not. They know an incredible amount about what goes on here on Earth. They could even eavesdrop on what was being said in the White House,” said John.

  “Oh my God, no wonder they knew you were on the mission if they have that level of intelligence gathering capability. I wonder if they knew all along about Svoboda’s rockets?”

  “We didn’t discuss it. But we did discuss how this country has gone down the toilet in terms of civil and constitutional rights. The feds kept them locked up for over a week with no charges and didn’t let them contact anyone. Walker’s a civil rights attorney, according to the info I got from the FBI, and he’s right. We treat people like crap in this country, not all the time, but when it suits the mood of the authorities. And as for how blacks are treated, it’s getting worse with the resentment of those who covet the separatists’ advances in science and technology manifesting itself in increased racial violence. By the way, what did your government say about being denied a chance to provide safe comings and goings for them if they come back to Earth?”

  “They weren’t really surprised. They had hoped, but they weren’t hopeful, if you know what I mean.”

  “I do. Walker mentioned that with their technology, they couldn’t really trust anyone here, and that any member of their community who knew vital details of their really advanced discoveries would never be allowed to visit. They also would never allow their ships to fall into our hands either,”

  “What about keeping in touch? Like you keeping in touch with your daughter?”

  “That’s not going to happen either. They really have no need for us at all. They obviously don’t want any kind of normalized relations with this country, nor with any other country. I wish I could be in my daughter’s life, but it’s not going to happen.”

  “That’s sad, John. It might have been better had they not told you at all.”

  “Maybe so. But on the whole, I’m glad to know. And I got to talk to Sydney again.”

  “And now that you’ve had some time to think about it, how do you feel about that?”

  John thought about it for a moment, then shrugged his shoulders. “I guess all right. It’s been ten years. I never thought I would see her again anyway. It was okay, what she did tell me about Joy was a kindness. Anyway, so what’s the U.N. going to do about the crew of Svoboda?” he asked, changing the subject.

  “The United Nations and the U.S. are pressing charges in the International Criminal Court against the governments of Russia, the European Union and the crew of Svoboda. I heard the preliminary proceedings begin two weeks from now. I also heard that they’re even going to try to solicit testimony from the separatists, I guess by sending them a radio message. Somehow I doubt they’ll show up to deliver any testimony. By the way, do you have plans to continue as an astronaut? You took to it like, as you Americans say, a duck to water,” she said, smiling.

  John laughed hard enough to shake the mattress, then said, “I was a rather reluctant astronaut to begin with. It looks like my old job with GST is still available, I’ll probably end up back there until I retire for the second time.”

  “I want to thank you for letting me sleep with you,” Bianca said quietly. “If I were to be honest, being out in space, especially that far from Earth, was unsettling to me.”

  “I had my best night of sleep the whole mission, it is I who should be thanking you,” John said, blushing despite himself.

  “May I stay the night tonight, John? We don’t have to do anything, I would just like to sleep with you,” she said, looking him in the eye.

  “I don’t mind at all. May I ask why?”

  “Looking a gift horse in the mouth, John?” she said, smiling.

  “Your faculty with American idiom is quite remarkable.”

  “It should be, I spent the last eleven years living almost full-time in New York. I love the States, I love living here, and I’m very good at what I do. I have degrees in international law and international finance, I speak four languages like a native, and I don’t suffer fools gladly. That’s probably why Madam Secretary selected me for the mission. Plus almost everyone else diplomatically qualified to go was too old or out of shape. I was her aide for six years before I was appointed ambassador. As for you and me, I like you. I like your sensibilities and I think you are a good man. But, if you would rather I leave, I can do so without hurt feelings. And before you ask, I’m not promiscuous or easily taken in by the celebrity of a former detective,” she said, grinning.

  “What about the celebrity of the only person on Earth who the separatists will talk to?” John said, poking right back.

  “Now you’re talking,” she said as she scooted up on the bed until she was right beside him and laid her head on his chest.

  “You know, sometimes I just like to be held in my sleep, especially if it’s someone I trust.”

  “You bed men who you don’t trust?” John said, in mock surprise.

  “Once in a while, and an occasional woman too. I hope that doesn’t put you off,” she said, searching his face for a clue to what he might be thinking.

  “Not at all. Do you need to get anything before we turn in?”

  “No,” she said, pulling a small cosmetics case out of her sweater pocket and putting it on the bedside table.

  “Pajamas?” John asked.

  “I have everything I need.”

  “I’m going to get ready, do you need the bathroom?” John offered.

  “I’m fine, John, you go ahead.”

  John untangled himself from her, got up and locked the door, then went to the small bathroom to get ready for bed. In less than five minutes he returned to the room and saw Bianca under the covers with the overhead light off, the bedside reading lamp the only illumination in the room.

  “Which side do you prefer?” she asked.

  “This side,” he said, indicating the side closest to the door.

  Bianca scooted over, making room for him to get under the covers behind her. He turned off the small lamp, leaving the room lit only by the dim glow coming through the curtains. He turned toward Bianca and she backed up against him. When he put his arm around her, John was surprised to find she had nothing on up top. Sensing his surprise she asked, “You don’t mind, do you?”

  “Not at all,” he said, sliding his hand down her side, finding she wore nothing below either.

  She chuckled and said, “I always sleep in the nude. I only wore something on the mission because it felt weird not to.” She took his hand and pulled it up and cradled it between her breasts and said, “Good night, John.”

  Still exhausted from the combination of the return to Earth’s gravity and the hectic events of the previous day, the last thing John remembered before he dropped off to sleep was the scent of her hair.

  John had a deep, dreamless night’s sleep and only woke up when he realized someone was holding his erection.

  When she sensed he was awake, Bianca said, “Good morning, John. I’m sorry, something was poking me in the back, I was just seeing what it was.”

  “Sorry,” he said. “Sometimes that thing has a mind of its own.”

  “Oh, don’t be sorry. I just thought I’d move it into a better position,
” she said, pushing it lower, between her cheeks. “How did you sleep?”

  “Like the dead, except for that one part I guess.”

  She squirmed around a little bit until he was pressing stiffly against her most intimate parts. She reached between them and maneuvered him through the fly of his underwear and into her heated inner grasp. John’s breath hissed through his teeth when he felt himself slide into her.

  The two made slow, languid love until she pulled away and turned John on his back, climbing on top and reseating him inside her. John watched through half-closed eyes as she rode him, the beauty of her above him driving his arousal higher.

  They kept to a slow, smooth rhythm for several minutes until she began to move ever faster. As they sped up, she bent over, holding herself up with her arms as she kissed John passionately, her mouth trailing along his jaw line as her breathing became faster, matching the rhythm of their intimately joined parts. John caressed her sides, urging her on. Her breath was tearing in and out of her mouth as she drove herself faster and faster, nearing her climax with him pushing upward at her every down stroke. Moments later her breathing stopped and her whole body tensed as she spasmed around him, driving him over the edge moments later.

  She sighed as she collapsed on top of him, breathing as if she’d just run several miles, and kissed him, her tongue sliding against his lips and tongue.

  Bianca lifted herself off of John after resting for several minutes, and when she looked at his face she saw his wide grin and twinkling eyes. When he said, “Can’t say I’m very sorry for poking you,” she laughed so hard she pushed him out of her, causing them to both laugh. She kissed him again and laid her head on his shoulder, sliding off to the side leaving just her leg laying across him.

  “You know something? I have no idea how we could have done that while we were in free fall,” Bianca said.