by James Duggan
The sergeant raised his head from the form he was filling out. He stiffened and looked even more harassed than a minute earlier.
“Sorry Mister Buchanan. It’s just that…”
“Never mind sergeant I can see your problem. Must be a pain in the ass eh?”
“Yeah, it sure is. I’ll be glad when someone takes him off my hands.”
The officer unlocked the grill, raised the counter flap and gestured for Buck to enter. Immediately a couple of press types tried to squeeze through behind him, but were deftly blocked by the large frame of the sergeant.
“Follow me. I should ask you for your ID, but everyone in the country knows by now that you’re heading up the exodus. Your face is more familiar than Mickey Mouse.”
“Yeah, I’m not sure whether that’s a good or bad thing, but it won’t make any difference in thirty two months from now.”
“Yeah, life’s a bitch and then you die.” said the battle weary lawman.
***
Buck entered the interview room to be faced with a craggy looking man in his early forties who had clearly been burning the candle at both ends.
“We’ve been looking for you.” said Buck, not quite knowing how to lead into the reason for his visit.
“Yeah, I heard. You got a cigarette? They must be trying to wean me off them. Bit late for that now.”
“Sorry. Don’t use em. Bad for your health.”
“Damn, I could really use one right now.”
Buck turned to his escort.
“Sergeant, go get the man some cigarettes.”
“But Mister Buchanan it’s against…”
“Sergeant!” said Buck, sternly.
“Oh hell. What difference could it make now anyway?” he said, in resigned tones as he moved towards the door.
“Go on hurry up Sergeant. I’m sure Mister McCoy won’t give me any trouble and he looks in need.”
McCoy smiled graciously.
“What do you want with me Mister Buchanan?”
“Well with all that’s going on I thought you might have guessed. We need you to carry out some tricky work for us…you and your crew that is.”
McCoy remained unflattered. He like everyone else knew only too well who Buck was and why he was there.
“Gambiadini’s behind this isn’t he? The bastard. He didn’t want me for the Mars trip after the accident. Now there’s some dirty work to be done he wants me. Why should I help him out now? Tell him to fuck off.”
Buck needed to get McCoy on side and he was prepared to try any means to achieve his objective. He tried the softer approach appealing to his better nature.
“Listen Slim. You must know what’s going on. For the sake of humanity we need you and your crew up there to put the Cube together. There may be other people who could give it a try, but we can’t risk failure on this. Gambiadini reckons success is more assured with you on the job.”
“Well Buck since we seem to be on first name terms I’ll give it some thought…I’ve thought about it and the answer is still no.”
The sergeant returned with a pack of Marlboro and threw them across the table. McCoy opened them deftly and popped one between his lips.
“Light?” he said, hopefully.
The sergeant grunted and threw him his lighter.
“Thanks.” said McCoy, as he drew deeply on the cigarette.
“Wait outside sergeant.” said Buck.
“We’ve got some business to discuss. It’s kind of sensitive.”
“But Mister Buchanan…”
“Please sergeant.” said buck, firmly.
“Oh what the hell.” said the custodian, as he shuffled once more out of the room.
“We’ll all be dead soon anyway.”
Buck was desperate. He changed tack looking for time to think how he might persuade the man he so urgently needed.
“What are you doing in here anyway?”
“Oh they got me on some trumped up charge for card counting at the poker tables. Would you believe that…me?”
“And were you?”
Slim grinned broadly.
“Of course I was. It’s the only way you can beat the table.”
“That must take some doing. Let me in on the secret. I could do with a few bucks to tide me over.”
Slim was eager to disclose his ingenious scheme.
“Oh. What the hell? It’ll all be over soon anyway. Who cares who knows now?”
He leaned across the table and spoke in low tones lest he be overheard.
“Security was sure I was counting, but they couldn’t see how so they had me hauled in on this trumped up charge of spying. They even strip searched me and poked around in dark crevasses where a hand shouldn’t go. They found nothing. Their electronic scanners showed a reading, but still nothing. I couldn’t stop laughing, which only made them madder; so no comforts of life.” he said, as he took another deep draw and blew smoke rings towards the ceiling.
Slim winked with his one good eye, then looked cross eyed at his glass one. He was grinning even more broadly than before.
“This other fella here is actually a miniature camera. It records what the dealer has thrown on the table and transmits the data to a cochlear type implant buried in my skull. That clever little bugger calculates the odds for me and a little voice whispers what to do in my ear. Smart eh?”
Buck marvelled at the audacity of the scheme.
“Yeah, smart, but I thought cochlear implants were worn behind the ear?”
“They generally were, but the technology and miniaturisation has come on leaps and bounds in the last ten years. Do you want to know a secret…what the irony of all this is?”
Buck nodded.
“Yeah, why not?”
“It was NASA who had the thing implanted when they wanted someone to experiment on with the idea it would enable easier communications. No headphones and all that.”
“What about the eye?”
“Oh that was them as well. They wanted to see what the astronaut could see without the need for handheld cameras; sort of a human bionic dash-cam. I had a ready made vacant socket so I agreed to the trial, but that was before the headaches became apparent and they ditched me.”
“Yeah, life’s a bitch and then you die.” said Buck, quoting the desk sergeant.
They both sat and thought reflectively on the cards they had both now been dealt. Buck finally broke the silence.
“Well Slim. What’s it to be? Help us out, or the rest of your short life without smokes?”
McCoy sat up straight as the prospect hit a nerve.
“What exactly is it you want me to do? You and Gambiadini, that is.”
“Well we’d like you to pop up to the International Space Station and wait there until we toss you a few pods. When they’re within reach we’d like you to nip out, lasso them and assemble as many as you can before we need to send you on your way.”
Buck felt a flippant approach might appeal to Slim’s casual attitude to his own self preservation and sense of adventure.
“That’s all huh? Just like that. Listen buddy. I’ve been up to the ISS four times and the fucking thing’s past it’s sell by date. I’d rather have done the Mars trip than risk spending too much time on the ISS. They might think I’m a loser, but I’m not that desperate. The answer’s still no.”
Buck sat for a moment staring into the eye of the man he needed so much. He still had a trump card to play and it seemed now was the time to play it.
“I understand you’ve got twin daughters in their mid teens…”
“You leave the girls out of this.” said McCoy, with a threatening tone.
“I’m afraid I can’t. They’re in it just like everyone else and they’re going to die just like everyone else unless you do something about it.”
“Hey Buchanan you play dirty.”
“Needs must. Right now I carry more clout than the President himself. If you agree to this I can arrange for Cassie and Danni to be on the Cub
e and out of harm’s way.”
“You can do that eh?”
“I can do that.”
McCoy sat pondering for what seemed like an age. Buck felt he had him and waited patiently for his answer. He eventually got it.
“I’ll do it on one condition.”
“No conditions.” retorted Buck.
“If you want me that bad, you’ll agree to this one.”
“What is it then?”
“My wife Maggie goes along too. Can’t let the girls go off to the far reaches of the universe without their mother, can we?”
Buck thought for a moment.
“Sorry, can’t do it. It’s too much to ask. Those who go are being selected for their brains and expertise. We can’t allow too many non essential passengers. I’m stretching the criteria just letting your girls go.”
“Well you don’t have to worry about that then because Maggie is high up in the field of microbiology. She’s working right now with some professor of microchemistry at the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor on a problem which might help solve the food needs of all future space travellers.”
Buck raised his eyebrows on receipt of this new piece of information and sat thinking for a moment.
“Well I suppose that puts a different perspective on it. It seems your Maggie might get to fly after all.”
“Ah, now that’s where you might have a problem. Maggie’s got a phobia about flying. Can’t get her into the air for love nor money. Says I do enough for both of us. Doesn’t want to risk the girls being left without both parents, they’re still only fifteen. If you want me on board you’ll have to persuade her and that won’t be easy: she’s one stubborn woman.”
“Damn it. As if I don’t have enough to do. Now I’ve got to sweet talk a woman I don’t even know.” said Buck, irritably.
“Yeah, life’s a bitch and then you die.” said Slim, grinning broadly and quoting what was becoming a popular idiom for the third time.
He knew Buck would find a way. He had to.
“Sergeant, come in here.” he called, through the closed door.
The sergeant quickly reappeared hoping that he was about to be rid of his charge. He was to be disappointed.
“Don’t take your eyes off this guy until you hear from me again. Three days should do it. And make sure he gets all the cigarettes he wants and that he’s fed and watered properly.”
“Damn it. Now I’m a fucking nursemaid.” said the sergeant.
“I’ll be back.” said Buck, giving it his best Arnold Schwarzenegger impression.
Buck left the building knowing what he had to do. The pursuit was over. Now he needed to woo ‘one stubborn woman’.
‘How difficult could that be?’ he thought to himself, as he hailed a taxi.
‘After all, I am from Irish stock renowned for the gift of the gab and the blarney stone.’
***
THE WOOING.
BUCK burst into lab 3a late in the afternoon at the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor looking for Maggie McCoy. He had been told by the main reception desk that if she wasn’t there she was probably dead. She virtually lived in her research lab carrying out work which she thought was particularly critical to the exodus project.
What he found instead was Ringo.
“Hey Ringo, what the hell are you doing here?” he said, surprised at the apparition still wearing his newly beloved Stetson.
“Is that thing glued on?” said Buck, pointing to the headgear and grinning broadly.
Ringo was just as stunned to see Buck; there of all places. Surely he had more pressing things to do elsewhere. He answered Buck’s more serious question; ignoring his flippant remark.
“I’m here to see some boffin about the requirements for the intensive food production pods mate. They’re proving to be a problem. There’s some doubt as to whether the quantity they’re going to build will be sufficient to sustain life indefinitely, especially in the numbers we’re hoping to put up there. They’re wanting to make them bigger.
What I got instead was some chemist and his assistant. I’m not sure what they can do to help. I’m waiting for him to come back. He’s just shot off like a ferret up a drainpipe; said he had something to show me.”
There was a strong whiff of chocolate in the air. It was as if they had entered the production facility at Cadbury World in Bournville, Birmingham in the UK. Buck’s parents had taken him there when he was a boy to satisfy his sweet tooth.
His curiosity was aroused, but there was apparently no one around to explain the cause of the aroma; just Ringo.
A side door was flung open through which a white gowned elderly gentleman emerged. He paused momentarily at the sight of the newcomer.
Buck’s nose caught a particularly strong waft of the pungent air swirling around after the opening and closing of the door.
“What is that smell?” he said, as he sniffed the currents.
The old man smiled mischievously. It only served to make Buck more curious.
“Hey if there’s any chocolate around I wouldn’t mind a square; sweet tooth and all that.”
“When was the last time you ate?” queried the old man, mysteriously.
“Oh about ten hours ago…breakfast at six this morning. Why do you ask? You concerned about my health eh? It’s a bit late for that now. Come on where is it?”
“Buck, let me introduce you to professor Bunion.” said Ringo.
“He tells me he’s spent the last twenty years working on the nutritional needs of astronauts who spend long periods in space. It’s a major problem getting food supplies up to them; not to mention the costs involved.”
Buck nodded and held out his hand to the professor. Bunion took his hand out of the pocket of his lab gown and reached forward. But instead of the expected handshake Buck got what appeared to be a small bar of chocolate no bigger than a Swan Vestas matchbox pressed into his hand.
“What’s this?”
“Try a piece. You should be all right.” Bunion said, without explanation.
Buck shrugged his shoulders, cracked open the packaging, broke off a square and popped it into his mouth. It was certainly chocolaty, light, smooth and creamy. He let it melt gently on his tongue as he savoured the treat.
“Very nice.” he said, with his mouth still full of chocolate.
“I don’t know what you’re up to in here, but I hope it’s worthwhile. Can I take a bar away with me? I need something to nibble on during the day.”
“You most certainly can.” said Bunion.
“But I warn you not to consume more than one square a day.”
“That’s one hell of a penance. I’m not sure I can comply with that. It’s delicious.”
Buck paused for a moment suspecting something untoward.
“It will probably kill you.” chirped Bunion, in a matter of fact tone.
“My god! Why? What is it?
Bunion proceeded to explain before Buck succumbed to a heart attack.
“My work here is ended with this breakthrough. What you have there are all the minerals, vitamins and nutrition a healthy man or woman needs to last a full twenty four hours. We’ve succeeded in compressing it into one small square and camouflaging it as chocolate, which most people crave after at some time or other.”
“You’re kidding.” said Buck, incredulously.
“No Mister Buchanan. I’m not kidding. And I mean what I say about not taking more than one a day. It will overload your metabolism and your body’s ability to absorb it. Otherwise it’s completely harmless.”
Buck stood there with his mouth open. The chocolate was now gone, except for a smear in one corner.
“My god Ringo that’ll go a long way towards solving our food supply problem. I too was concerned we would not be able to produce enough food on board the cube. Now the professor’s virtually solved the problem with a chunk of candy…Brilliant!”
“Yeah, we try to think of everything around here.” said Bunion, casually.
“Brilliant.” said Buck again, as he turned on his heel and headed for the door through which he entered.
“Well done professor. The human race will be forever grateful for your efforts.” he said, over his shoulder.
As he put his hand on the door knob he paused thumping his chest with his fist whilst trying to resist the need to belch.
‘My god that stuff’s potent.’ he thought.
“Oh by the way professor, I don’t think your work is actually finished here. People are going to become rather sick of chocolate after a few years on a diet of nothing else. Can you come up with a couple of hundred other flavours? Roast beef for instance?”
“Consider it done.” said the professor, eagerly.
He was pleased that he was still needed rather than spending his remaining time on earth moping around.
Buck nodded agreeably as he opened the door and nearly head butted a very attractive blond in her mid forties heading into the room.
“Oh my god I’m sorry. I was looking for Maggie McCoy and I’ve found an angel instead.”
“Well I don’t know about the angel bit, but you’ve found Maggie McCoy. Are all you Irish such smooth talkers or just the ones who want something?”
She had instantly recognised Buck from all the news the media was pumping out. She knew he would not be there unless he wanted something.
“You’re right.” said Buck, embarrassed at having been so readily sussed.
“I need to talk to you. It’s urgent and it’s sensitive.”
Maggie was unsettled by the apparent secrecy and the reason for it. Nevertheless, she beckoned Buck to follow her to an office along the corridor where they could talk in private.
***
Buck closed the door behind him and sat at a desk across from Maggie.
“Well Mister Buchanan, what can I do for you?”
“I’ve been talking to your husband and…”
“Oh no. What’s he done now?”
Buck held his hands up at the interruption.
“Don’t worry Misses McCoy. It’s not what he’s done, but what he won’t do.”
She was obviously relieved, but at the same time puzzled.
“It’s Maggie. Call me Maggie. There’s no need for the formalities. It’s a bit late for all that now. So what can I do for you and how is Slim involved?”