by J. L. Wood
“Think he’ll be a problem?” Jessica asked as she drove through the gate toward the front entrance of the Cadence station.
Don rolled his window back up. “Even if that were the case, it’d be too late for anyone to stop us.”
*
Hesitantly, Don scanned his Cadence Science badge at the main entrance of the building while Justin and Jessica stood excitedly behind him. The faint smell of cigarettes engulfed him as he opened the door, which transported him to another time. When he closed his eyes, familiar faces rushed about. Tourists pointing at the miniature replicas in the lobby. Kenny laughing, alive, his arm around Don’s shoulders for the cameras. There were so many cameras, smiling faces, flashes, and then darkness. Absolute darkness. Shame was here, its arm now around Don, and it was pulling him away. He couldn’t breathe.
“It’s a shame David shut this place down,” Jessica said, pulling Don back into reality.
Don looked around, confused, the old station back to normal. As he continued to take in the room, he found everything just as he had left it. One of the walls in the lobby was filled with photographs and newspaper clippings, many of him and Kenny on their many excursions. There were educational materials and space photographs on another wall near a large spiral staircase that had the words Because we can, and we will engraved in the stone curvature. Don remembered when it was etched during their opening ceremony. The sight reinvigorated him. The past was the past, and he needed to live in the now.
Justin cupped his hands around his mouth, yelled “Hello,” and let it echo off the walls. The emptiness sent a shiver down Don’s spine as the memories began to resurface.
“We should get going,” Don said as he started up the stairs, his companions following close behind, Jessica nearly at Don’s heels as they passed through the long hallway to the shuttle station, eager to see the infamous Pitch. “The skybridge is up ahead.”
Don scanned his badge at the elevator and pressed one of the two keys for up, his heart rate increasing as he remembered standing in the same elevator with Kenny. The elevator doors opened to a long hallway made entirely of curved glass except for the flattened walkway, which held a long carpet that ran from the elevator to another door at the far end. Wooden benches with constellation-printed pillows lined the sides of the walkway, their backs curved to fit snugly along the glass. Beyond the glass was the rising sun, its long orange beams lighting up the surface of the Earth.
“It’s beautiful,” Jessica whispered.
“That it is. This was our every morning. We should keep moving,” Don insisted, moving forward. “Hope this still works,” he whispered as he placed his palm on the hand reader outside the door. The door chimed and slowly opened, a gust of dust and stale air forcing itself out onto the team.
Justin let out a series of sneezes, and when he was finally able to control his allergies, he laughed. “Guess this room is off-limits to the cleaning crew.”
Don walked into the shuttle room, his boots clanking on the thickly grated floor. “It’s off-limits to everyone,” he replied as he inspected the room, trying to identify anything that was out of place, Justin now at his side, taking note of the current condition of the ship.
Don stared in awe at the Pitch. It was much larger than the current exploratory spaceships, standing forty-five meters tall. Although it had been untouched for years, the outside of the Pitch still sparkled under the bright white lights, its name painted in blue cursive on the side above the same words, Because we can, and we will. The actual cabin of the ship was small compared to its base, which contained a large now-outdated battery source. The technology was old, but it would do the job all the same. It had worked for him then, and it would work for him now.
Don walked into the hub and rubbed his hand over one of the monitors to clear the dust. He smiled as he remembered standing in the small room to receive his brief before a mission. It was always crowded and hot. Today it sat deserted, waiting for the opportunity to be used again. The walls were filled with flat screens that were all powered off. There were two command boards adjacent to each other that contained a series of dials, tracking balls, keyboards, and other electronics. A long wooden table sat nudged under the window facing the ship, manuals and papers scattered about as if someone had left in a hurry. Don opened the switch panel by the door and flipped on all six of the small levers until the hub was online and all of the lights in the station were on.
Jessica joined him, and they walked around the room, checking the equipment.
“Are you familiar with this setup?” he asked.
Jessica turned on one of the monitors. “No, this is before my time. I only got involved in assisting crews a couple years ago. But a lot of it looks self-explanatory.”
Don pressed a switch that dimmed the windows in the room to a dark blue. “Self-explanatory is for putting together bookshelves. Better spend some time getting yourself acquainted.”
*
After a couple of hours of getting set up, Don called to Jessica and Justin. He looked toward the Pitch, his eyes misty. “I’m saying this just in case. Just in case. It’s been a bit since this guy soared. If anything happens, can you watch out for Missy? If things get rougher, and people get more desperate because of the sugar flu, I have a room full of supplies. I have a generator. Just…please watch out for her. If something happens up there. I need you to tell me you will, or I can’t board that ship.”
Justin patted Don on the back. “You’ve done this solo before, buddy. You’re going to charted territory. Just go out there and come back. The simplest mission you’ve ever flown.”
Don shook his head. “Says the guy from the safety of the hub. It’s different this time. We’re investigating, not documenting.”
Justin blinked and stared at his old friend. “You know I will. You don’t even have to ask.”
Jessica looked up at Don, her forehead crinkled. “We shouldn’t start this way. Not with doubt. But…you have my word.”
Don nodded, relieved. He always had to think of the what-ifs in his profession. Although the ship required a crew for longer missions, this one was short. He wasn’t landing, only sending out the satellite to check the FRBs. But knowing Missy would be taken care of made him feel more comfortable. “Okay, my man, Justin. Suit me up,” he said after undressing.
“Aye, aye, Cap’n,” Justin responded. He pulled a royal-blue travel suit from one of the wall lockers and knelt down, opening one of the legs for Don to step into. Don stepped into the suit and sucked in his gut while Justin pulled it up and threaded his arms into the sleeves. The suit was intended to be tight-fitting so that it could easily fit into an exploration suit if needed.
“Just like old times, right, boss?” Justin asked as he fitted Don’s boots and pulled a long, tight elastic band around Don’s shins, covering the boots’ openings.
“Just like old times,” Don responded.
After fitting Don’s gloves on him, followed by more bands, Justin zipped up the neck of the suit and attached a hose from the wall into a small opening on the back of the suit. When he clicked the lever on the nozzle, the hose let out a low hum as it suctioned air out of the suit until it was tight on Don’s body, resembling a thick layer of skin, all the curvatures of his body visible.
Justin slapped Don’s butt. “Just like a fresh vacuum-packed honey ham,” he said, laughing.
“Hey, women love ham,” Don said jokingly while placing his hand on his protruding stomach, glad no one else could see him. The suit still fit, and that was all that mattered, he reassured himself.
“Now for the fun part,” Justin said as he pulled a backup device from one of the lockers. “Hope it still works.”
Don hesitated. Backup devices were primarily used for walking the surface of planets. They sent health information and GPS data back to the crew. There was also a liquid poison embedded in each one to end one’s life if necessary, but Don didn’t want to think about that. The seat in the Pitch could gather all of hi
s vitals on its own. “Seems a bit of overkill, and I won’t be leaving the ship. You think I’ll lose contact?”
Justin looked at him, slightly aghast. “No, no, man. Just…it’s us here, and we need to take every precaution. If something happens up there, I don’t know if we can get a sister station to get you in time. You know the protocol. Just in case, like we always do.”
“Yeah, I get it,” Don replied, extending his left arm.
“Just a small pinch,” Justin said while he threaded the prongs on the small device through the two tiny holes in Don’s suit. He then pushed it down and pulled the straps tightly, and two small, thin prongs pierced Don’s skin, causing him to flinch. Justin applied a sealant where the prongs met the suit and then began to configure the backup device. When he finished, the small round face lit up, showing Don’s heart rate, and a green light on its side blinked continuously.
“They’ll write about us,” Don whispered, making sure Jessica could not hear him. “They might even make a movie. The three people that found where the beings live that gave us Element 122.”
“Wait, what?” Justin asked, dumbfounded.
“Element 122. They had a signal similar to this when NASA found them in the 1970s,” Don whispered. “Why else do you think I came? Why else would I fly solo?”
Justin stepped back, still confused. “You really think that this is…?”
Don grabbed his helmet when he saw Jessica looking out of the hub door toward them. “Maybe. We’ll talk when I get back. And keep quiet—she needs to focus on getting me to Lerner.” He placed his helmet over his head and snapped the front, locking it into place. “Warm ’er up. It’s time.”
*
“Closing the hatch door,” Justin announced as he typed commands into one of the hub’s computers.
“Hatch door closed,” Don responded from the ship’s intercom as he closed the vents on his helmet. He then pulled a long, thin oxygen hose that protruded from the side of his seat, connected it to a small opening on his helmet, and clicked it into place. “Performing final checks.” Don pulled forward the small mechanical keyboard firmly attached to a collapsible metal platform near the side of his commander’s seat. He sat for a moment, trying to remember the check codes and then finally typed them in, refusing to use the reference manual at his side.
“Carrie, verify the check codes,” Don requested of the ship’s artificial intelligence computer system.
“All codes green, Dr. Wolf. All systems ready,” Carrie responded.
“All systems good to go,” Don responded back to the hub, his voice shaky from nerves. All the moments leading up to him being on the Pitch were a blur, and time was nearly at a standstill. Everything was happening in slow motion, and it was like he was watching his story unfold out of body. The silent observer, lurking behind the storylines, skillfully dodging Shame, whose long hands reached for him, but he was always only inches away.
Don was unsure of what he would find in Messier 83, but he was convinced that whatever it was, it could be connected with Element 122, the mineral that powered all of their space technology. The secret behind the space boom of the 2020s. It was all like before. The FRBs increasing in repetitive intensity, like they had before he was born, when a crew of courageous astronauts went to the Moon. It had to be the same beings. And if in the end it was unrelated, he was still doing something wonderful for science and for himself.
Don folded the keyboard in and returned it to its cubby near his seat. The Pitch’s engines roared, shaking the shuttle, causing the water in Don’s stomach to splash back and forth, making him feel seasick. He regretted drinking so much before his journey, but the anticipation of the flight dried out his throat, and before he knew it, he had become bloated and full. It was unsettling, and he now admitted to himself that he was out of shape. His body wasn’t prepared for this journey.
Don shielded his eyes as the ceiling to the ship’s hangar pulled back, exposing the bright blue sky. He tried to take in as much of the sky as he could before the Pitch’s protective visors closed, keeping him safe from the heat of the ascent. The inside visors automatically pulled down, tinting the inside of the ship a dark blue before the metal visors on the outside closed, leaving Don to the ship’s artificial lighting.
“Launch in five…four…three…two…” Justin commanded through the intercom.
Don gripped the arms of his chair, his seatbelt restricting his torso from moving. His heart rate was elevated, and as he glanced at his backup device, he realized he was at 110 beats per minute. He tried to inhale slowly, but as he did, the seatbelt constricted even more against his chest, reducing his breathing.
“One,” Justin declared.
Don stared at one of the video feeds, although his eyes wanted to instinctively close. The base of the shuttle shot an electrical current throughout the hangar, lighting up the room, making it nearly unbearable to view even through the blue filter on the screen. The Pitch shot out of the hangar, straight into the air, causing the entire building to shake. The screen’s filter dissolved, and there was then a blur of blues and whites and then reds and whites as the ship sped through the morning sky.
“Hey, buddy, report back,” Justin hailed over the intercom.
“All’s well. All’s well,” Don said, his voice shaking in cadence with the ship. Although firmly strapped to his seat, his intestines felt as if they were sinking to his lower extremities. The shuttle broke through the atmosphere, and its engines abruptly cut off, giving Don a falling feeling that rattled the water in his stomach even more. “I’m out,” he said with a sigh of relief, his body aching from how tense he was.
The once-silent hub erupted in cheers from Jessica and Justin. “Halfway there, buddy,” Justin said. “I’ve entered your coordinates to the transport portal. It’s about an hour away. I’m activating the boosts now, just leave ’er on autopilot. You know, you have the easy job. Just sittin’ there stargazing.”
Don fidgeted in his seat, the seatbelts now lax as he tried to get into a position to settle his stomach. “No, I have the dangerous job. A mysterious alien could come along and just pluck me out of my seat and probe me.”
“Highly unlikely, not to mention disgusting,” Jessica said. “We’ll keep the comms clear. Just try to relax before the entrance.”
Don felt around the side of his chair until his hand found the chair release lever. As he pulled the lever back, his seat pushed forward along the track on the floor to the command board at the front of the ship and locked into place. “Where’s that thing again?” he muttered, trying to remember where the module to retract the visors was located. Finally finding it, he hit the switch.
The shields outside of the shuttle slowly retracted, giving Don a full view of space ahead. The view instilled in him a sense of calm. It was a reminder of his insignificance. He was just a tiny speck in a collection of a million greater specks. Was there something like him feeling the same way he was, staring at one of the greatest kept secrets? The intricacies of the universe? This was his home, the only place he had ever felt at peace. He wanted to stay forever.
The Pitch was eerily quiet inside. Don turned around in his seat and glanced at the two empty chairs still sitting in the middle of the command room. It was strange being the only human in space, with no one to talk to. As he looked around the hub at the two empty command stations, the walls covered in supplies, the closed hatch door to the lab, and the numerous screens that broadcast from the cameras outside, he thought of all the wonderful times he’d had on the Pitch. The old magnetic chessboard that he could never win at, the educational videos filmed for the students, the first time he entered the portal. Those memories were deeply ingrained in him, and out in space, the power of them was strong enough to suffocate the weakest of emotions.
Even Shame.
*
“All right, buddy!” Justin exclaimed. “You’re nearly there. The fun is just getting started!”
Don reenacted the visors and returned his
seat to its original position. “Carrie, pull the wings and tail of the ship in,” he requested.
“Yes, Dr. Wolf, activating commands now. Finalized.” The ship made a loud thump as the appendages retreated into the ship, now resembling a large smooth egg.
“If you’ve forgotten,” Justin said, “you’re looking at about six hours for you and twenty-four for us as you travel the portal to Messier 83. Then it’s smooth sailing to Lerner. We’ll be here when you wake up.”
“And Don…” Jessica said hesitantly. “Don’t break suit unless we tell you to.”
“What? Why?” Don asked, annoyed by the request. He could not wait to take his helmet off once he passed through the portal. The weight of it was causing his shoulders to ache, and along with his upset stomach, he was not able to properly focus.
“Just don’t do it,” Jessica said, sighing. “We don’t know what’s out there, and you’re flying solo. Just…put my mind at ease.”
“You got it,” Don said. He looked at the monitors ahead of him, which showed the transport portal. It was a beautiful sphere, like a marble he would play with as a child. He remembered sitting next to his older sister, flicking marbles with his thumb until his nail bed ached. He always won those games; his sister gave up too easily. He wanted to flick this marble and see how far it could go. It was almost time. “Approaching the portal.”
As the shuttle drew nearer the portal, it seized the ship, sucking it in. The marble opened up into a series of brightly colored rings. Don could see his destination on the other side. It was beautiful, remarkable. It was perfect. Otherworldly. Don couldn’t stop staring, his body finally feeling comfortable and relaxed. He had forgotten how much he missed this feeling, complete euphoria. The feeling of complete acceptance. He could die here and be at peace with that. His heart raced, filled with bliss. He was out of his body, looking at himself, the reflection of the inside of the portal reflected in his green eyes. Those marbles were beautiful. He flicked that marble with his sister, and he won. He took it from her, and now it was taking him—the circle of life.
