The Son of Man

by CW Johnson

“But, I don’t have any money,” Todd said. “I just have this debit card they gave us. I couldn’t very well draw out a bunch of cash.”

  “I have enough money,” Maria said, “don’t worry.”

  They drove another mile and Todd asked, “what should we take with us?”

  “Just the essentials.”

  “What do you consider to be the essentials?”

  “You know, clothing, food, blankets, pillows. Think of it as a short trip.”

  “Oh it’ll be a trip alright,” Todd said, pulling into their driveway.

  ~~~

  It was 0300 on the fourth day from startup and team three, consisting of Trawler commander John Lee Gunnarson, Lieutenant Commander Arno Bosley and payload specialist Robert Bouchard were on duty. The project had been proceeding on schedule and it was beginning to look like they’d easily make the six-day deadline. Only four of the SRBs had been assembled, but progress was expected to accelerate once the inner grouping was completed.

  Gunnarson was busily working on one of the Power and Data Grapple Fixtures used to physically and electronically link each SRB into a single network. This allowed the entire assembly to fire as one when the remote signal was sent. Each PDGF had to be installed, meticulously checked and rechecked. Failure of one of these fixtures would cause the assembly to fire unevenly. If that happened, the main propulsion assembly would all but certainly somersault out of control like an immense Fourth of July firework display.

  Payload commander Joyce Shipley had taken over for Elisabeth Jiang on the Canadarm controls. Commander Gunnarson finished up his last continuity check and turned to signal Shipley via the mobile service system external cameras, placed on the Canadarm’s end effector. “ROSO, be advised that PDGF alpha zero, zero eight is in place and fully functional.”

  “Copy ODIN,” commander Shipley said.

  “Roger ROSO, flight confirms good to go.”

  Shipley, operating the Canadarm 2, began hoisting SRB number five into place. She closely watched the cameras as the mammoth solid rocket booster slowly closed in on the fragile PDGF.

  Gunnarson stood by, waiting to feel the familiar click signaling a successful interlock. “ROSSO hold!” Gunnarson ordered.

  Shipley jumped and took her hands away from the Canadarm controls. She waited a moment and asked, “ODIN, what’s your status?”

  “Hold ROSSO. Don’t do anything.”

  “Roger ODIN.”

  “ODIN, what’s your status?” This time flight control was asking.

  “Flight, we may have a malfunction. The SRB is not lining up. It’s off just enough to keep the PDGFs from coupling.”

  “ROSSO, you copy?” Flight asked.

  “Copy flight, getting a visual off camera nine.” Shipley paused a moment, studying the image on the monitor. “ODIN, I’m not seeing an obstruction from here. Can you see anything?”

  “Negative ROSSO, looks like it should slip right in.”

  “ROSSO, do a check on all cameras. Let’s be sure the SRB is free floating and not up against anything.”

  “Roger Flight, checking now.” She switched from camera to camera, making sure the SRB wasn’t resting against anything, finished her check and hit the COM button. “Flight, I’m not seeing any obstruction.”

  “Roger ROSSO. ODIN, did you copy that?”

  “Roger Flight,” Gunnarson said, “I guess we could try backin’ ‘er out.”

  Commander Joyce Shipley would spend the rest of her life wondering why she hadn’t noticed camera six clearly showing SRB5 resting against a small eyebolt located on the aft section of the Unity Connecting Module.

  “ROSSO, pull back a little. Let’s see what happens.”

  “Roger flight, pulling back.” The Canadarm began slowly pulling the SRB away from the coupling.

  “ROSSO hold!”

  Commander Shipley stopped.

  “I think I see something between the interlock.” Gunnarson said, “I think I can reach it.”

  “Negative ODIN, don’t put anything in there.”

  “Flight, I think I can reach it.”

  “Negative ODIN, do not—”

  At that moment, the SRB slipped off the eyebolt. In an instant it slammed against the main propulsion assembly smashing the two PDGFs together. The two units coupled directly through Trawler commander John Lee Gunnarson’s right hand.

  “ODIN, what’s your status?”

  No answer.

  “John, what’s going on?”

  “Flight, be advised,” Gunnarson said slowly, “the damn thing has coupled, but my hand is in there with it.”

  Commander Shipley, watching from her vantage point at the Canadarm controls, felt the blood drain from her face.

  Lieutenant Commander Arno Bosley, working just above Gunnarson, quickly dropped to his side.

  “This is flight control. ROSSO get to GPC and uncouple that damn PDGF, and somebody wake up Jiang!”

  “What? Wait, I can do this.” Commander Shipley said.

  “Negative ROSSO, Jiang is senior.”

  “Roger flight,” Shipley said softly as she turned to man the general-purpose computer. She quickly scrolled to PDGF alpha zero, zero eight.

  “ROSSO hold!”

  What now? she wondered.

  “Flight, be advised, Commander Gunnarson’s suit is losing atmosphere.”

  The COM went silent. After a few moments, it crackled back to life. “ROSSO, hold for orders.”

  Payload commander Elisabeth Jiang appeared in the module. She punched the COM button. “Flight, this is Jiang. Be advised, I’m in SRMS operations.”

  “Roger ROSSO.”

  Shipley moved to leave. “No, no, stay and man the GPC,” Jiang said smiling. Shipley quietly moved back to her seat.

  “ROSSO, this is Bosley. We can’t uncouple; it would probably open up John’s suit.”

  “Affirmative ODIN,” Jiang said, “standing by.”

  Payload specialist Robert Bouchard had managed to make his way to Gunnarson’s side.

  “This is flight control. We read John’s suit atmosphere at three point three and dropping.”

  “That’s affirmative flight,” Bosley said. “Clear for tether interlock.”

  “Roger ODIN, go for tether interlock.”

  Bouchard was already on his way to the CETA.

  “Are you alright John?” Bosley asked.

  “I’m having a little trouble breathing….”

  “Hurry up, Bob!” Bosley barked into the COM.

  Bouchard had made it to the CETA and was snaking a lengthy, metallic hose behind him. Bosley moved to help. As they pulled the hose up Gunnarson began gasping for air.

  “Hurry!” Bosley repeated, yanking on the hose. He pushed the hose receptacle into the interface on Gunnarson’s suit and felt the click of interlock. Gunnarson was bent over, wheezing for air. “GO, GO, GO!” Bosley screamed.

  Shipley smashed the controls and pure oxygen flooded Gunnarson’s suit. Gunnarson gulped in great heaving gasps of air. Bosley bent over, catching his breath.

  “This is flight control. We’ll need as much PSI as we can get once we uncouple.”

  Bouchard had returned with a roll of silver duct tape. “Oww!” Gunnarson yelled as Bouchard began wrapping it tightly around his injured wrist.

  “This is flight control. I’m going off COM for a moment.”

  “Copy that,” Jiang said from SRMS operations.

  “Roger that,” Bosley said still panting.

  ~~~

  Flight control went off COM and channeled directly into Gunnarson’s COM link. “John, this is flight.”

  “Go ahead flight,” Gunnarson said.

  “John, we’ve cut suit communications. It’s just you and me talking now.”

  “Ok, Cody. What’s on your mind?”

  “Well, John, when we uncouple, it’s probably gonna’ tear your suit, you know that don’t you?”

  “Yeah Cody, I sorta’ figured that.”

  “We�
��re seeing down here that the heaters in the suit, around the hand area, aren’t functioning.”

  “My guess is they’re smashed into my hand, sir.”

  “Yeah, John they’re smashed, see here’s the deal, when we uncouple it’s gonna’ tear that thing wide open.” Flight control paused a moment and continued. “John…your hand is gonna’ freeze and crystallize in a matter of seconds.”

  “I understand,” Gunnarson said.

  “We’re all here with you, John. Everyone is watching. The whole world is watching.”

  “Thanks, Cody,” Gunnarson said.

  Moments later, flight control broke COM link with Gunnarson and Moscow command re-activated Tranzit-B suit communications.

  “ROSSO, this is flight. We are go to disengage PDGF alpha zero, zero eight.”

  “Copy flight. Clear to disengage.”

  Jiang moved the Canadarm to begin pulling the SRB away from the main propulsion assembly.

  Gunnarson screamed as the Herculean missile shifted against his crushed hand.

  “Easy, John,” Bosley said, holding on to Gunnarson.

  The SRB groaned as the pressure mounted.

  “Disengage.” Jiang ordered and Shipley hit the controls.

  The PDGF disengaged and the SRB swung away. Just as predicted, it tore a gash in Gunnarson’s suit as it uncoupled. Gunnarson gasped and screamed as his crushed hand blackened and froze solid in front of his eyes. He arched backwards and passed out.

  Bouchard had taped the suit as tightly around Gunnarson’s wrist as he could, but it was still losing atmosphere at an alarming rate. The tether interlock was managing to pump enough oxygen in, replacing the oxygen going out, but just barely.

  Bouchard and Bosley managed to get Gunnarson onto the CETA where he was quickly transported into the crew quarters of the Trawler Edmonton. Doctor Vladimir Nikolaevich was waiting when he arrived. Not surprisingly, Gunnarson had completely lost his right hand and forearm.

  As the crew inspected the damage to PDGF alpha zero, zero eight, it was clear that both couplings would have to be replaced. Together with the time lost responding to the accident, it was going to postpone the rendezvous with Dante a full six days. This meant that Dante657 would be allowed to travel two million, eight hundred and eighty thousand miles closer to the earth than was originally planned.

  ~~~

  “No, Brother Michael, we didn’t do nothin’,” Pete said, “and besides, it fell on the floor! Ask Sarah!”

  Michael looked at Sarah.

  “The package fell on the floor Brother Michael,” Sarah said quickly. “We just looked inside to make sure nothing was broken.”

  Michael turned and glared at Barney. “Give it to me.”

  “Oh come on, Brother Michael.” Barney said.

  “Give it to me now.”

  “That’s what I get for betting against you.” Barney pulled twenty dollars out of his shirt pocket and handed it to Michael.

  Pete looked at Barney and back at Michael. “You’re not mad?”

  “Mad?” Michael said. “Why would I be mad? I just won twenty bucks.”

  Pete shook his head, “huh?”

  “It was a bet, dummy,” Barney said. “Brother Michael bet you’d look in the box and I bet you’d be too stupid.”

  “And I bet you’re a moronic baboon!” Sarah barked, glaring at Barney.

  “What—what did you say?” Mallory hollered, jumping off Barney’s lap.

  Barney took hold of her belt, and pulled her back down. “Don’t worry about it, babe,” he said laughing. “She’s Pete’s broad; what do you expect?”

  “I agree with Sarah,” Brother Michael said. “I think you’re a moronic baboon too; one who’s twenty bucks poorer.”

  “How’d you know we’d look in the box?” Pete asked.

  “Oh, that,” Michael said. “Charlie called. You and Sarah scared him pretty badly. He said you acted a little too shocked when he mentioned what was in the box. Said he came up with a little story to test you. He wanted to be sure you were- how did he put it? In the loop.”

  “But that still doesn’t explain how you knew we would look in the box,” Sarah said.

  “I’ve known my little brother Peter for a while now,” Michael said. “I knew when Charlie mentioned the value of the box his curiosity would get the best of him. Barnabas bet he wouldn’t, that he’d be afraid, so we made a little wager.”

  “You’re really not upset?” Sarah said.

  “Of course not, we’re all in this together. As a matter of fact, I think we should have a little meeting, a little business meeting.”

  Barney and Pete exchanged glances. Pete immediately sat down next to Barney.

  Barney slapped Mallory on the bottom, “get me a beer.” Mallory jumped from his lap and returned with a cold beer.

  Sarah moved and sat next to Pete.

  “First off,” Brother Michael began, “I think it’s time for all of you to know what kind of business we’re in.”

  Pete and Barney leaned forward.

  “We’re in the pharmaceutical business.”

  “What’re pharmaceuticals?” Pete asked.

  “Drugs.” Michael said.

  Barney frowned, “we sell drugs?”

  “Illegal ones.”

  “But, Brother Michael,” Pete said, “don’t the father hate drugs?”

  “In the right hands, Peter, all drugs are healing medicines. We’re about to heal a dreadfully sick world.”

  “Is that what was in all those boxes we picked up?” Barney said.

  “Yup, Ecstasy, PCP, coke, meth…we do it all.”

  “Cripes!” Barney bellowed. “All this time we been walkin’ up, plain as my face, and transporting illegal drugs, through a public park no less. Do you know how close they watch those docks?”

  “Of course I know!” Michael yelled.

  Barney quickly backed down.

  “That’s our job,” Michael continued. “We do the most dangerous part of all. We transport the drugs from the dock to the warehouse.”

  “You mean Pete and me do the most dangerous job of all!” Barney said, apparently unable to control his mounting anger.

  “You’re pushing it Barnabas!” Michael said.

  Barney pulled back again.

  “Did you have any problems out there?” Michael asked.

  Barney shrugged and shook his head.

  “How about you Peter?”

  Pete glanced at Sarah and looked back at Michael, “no.”

  “No of course you didn’t, and that’s how we can be sure the father is protecting us. As long as we are doing the father’s will he’ll protect us.”

  “What are those green diamonds in the pouch?” Pete said.

  Michael reached for the box in Sarah’s lap. “Oh yes, the demantoids.” He opened the bag and poured them into the palm of his hand. “This is our payment for last week’s shipment.” He held one of the gems up for everyone to see. “This, my family, is one of the most brilliant gemstones in the world.”

  “Is it a diamond?” Mallory asked quietly.

  Barney grimaced and clicked his tongue. “Does it look like a diamond?”

  “Actually Mallory, it’s a green garnet.”

  “Anybody could see it’s not a diamond!” Barney said.

  Mallory blushed.

  “They call them demantoids, Barnabas.” Michael said. “That’s Dutch for diamond like.”

  Barney snorted and mumbled under his breath.

  “Of course,” Michael continued, “that doesn’t matter to us. The important thing is, it’s worth about a hundred thousand dollars.”

  “Those little things are worth a hundred thousand bucks?” Pete asked.

  “No,” Michael said, “this one is.” He picked it up higher and held it out in front of his face.

  Barney’s mouth dropped. “How many are in there?”

  “These little rocks are so rare; this bundle represents approximately a fifth of all known demantoi
ds in the entire world.”

  Barney glanced around the room before returning his attention to Michael. “So, how much money we got?”.

  Michael shook his head and slowly turned to face him, “patience Barnabas.”

  “Charlie said there was a million bucks worth of rocks in the box we picked up today,” Pete said.

  “No, that was a little above target I’d say more like six or seven hundred k.”

  “So how much money do we got?” Barney repeated.

  “Barney!” Mallory yelled, jabbing him in the chest with her elbow.

  “What? Is this a meeting or not?”

  “That’s alright,” Michael said. “We’re worth around…” he put his hand to his mouth and began tapping his lips with his forefinger. “Today I’d say…oh…around five hundred million dollars.”

  “Cripes!” Barney hollered, jumping to his feet, “five hundred million dollars?”

  “Give or take a hundred million,” Michael said. “Of course that’s today. Tomorrow it will be more like seven hundred million.”

  Barney went to his feet. “We moved seven hundred million dollars’ worth of drugs in those little boxes?”

  “Of course not,” Michael said. “That was just the capital. I turned it into real money.”

  “And all this time, Pete and me been working in a shoe factory, runnin’ after stupid little boxes and here we are sittin’ on seven hundred million buck—”

  Barney stopped mid-sentence and projectile vomited ten feet into the kitchen. He fell to the floor and continued heaving, writhing in his own slime.

  Brother Michael slowly rose and moved to where he lay on the floor. “You’re starting to make me angry, Barnabas.”

  Barney returned to normal. “S- sorry B-Brother Michael. I won’t do it again.”

  “I believe you,” Michael said, reaching down and helping him up from the floor.

  Barney returned to his seat and looked around at the shocked faces. “Sorry. I won’t do it again.”

  “The money we’ve earned is not for our personal comfort, Barnabas,” Michael said. “There’s a specific void we must fill. Do you understand?”

  “Yeah, yeah, I understand,” Barney said, staring at the floor.

  Mallory ran to the bathroom, found a towel, moved back to Barney and began wiping his face. “Are you alright Baby?” she asked, brushing the towel against the front of his shirt.

  “He’ll be fine,” Michael said.

  Mallory glanced up at Brother Michael and stood. “I’ll clean this mess up.”

  “Don’t bother,” Michael said, “we haven’t the time; we’re leaving.”

  Pete looked up, “we’re leaving?”