The Son of Man

by CW Johnson

  “Yes, sir,” specialist Palm said, returning his attention to the control console in front of him.

  Lange glanced around the crew quarters. “Sorry, John,” she said finally.

  “I understand, Commander. The responsibilities must be overwhelming.”

  “You’re not alone in this,” Joyce Shipley said softly. “We’re all here with you.”

  Lange looked away. She returned to her console and made a move to check the SVS but slowly slumped in her seat instead.

  Shipley quickly moved to her side.

  “Damn,” Lange said softly. “Look at me. I’m crying like a little schoolgirl right here in front of this great crew.”

  Palm glanced nervously at Tony Higbee, who was looking back at him.

  Aubrey Clawson moved to join Shipley at Lange’s side. “Go ahead and cry,” Clawson said, softly. “It doesn’t mean a thing.” Lange quickly sat up straight and continued monitoring her console.

  The crew went about their duties for a time before Shipley finally broke the silence. “You have doubts about the mission?” she said, looking at her commander.

  “No, of course not! Why would you ask that?"

  “I have doubts about the mission. I think it’s crippled. I think we may be too late—”

  “I think you should keep your opinion to yourself,” Lange said.

  “It’s ok, we all feel the same way.”

  Lange looked around the crew quarters. “Is that true?”

  Each of the crew members glanced up and nodded before returning their attention to their duty stations.

  “Then why the hell are we here?”

  “We lost two of the SRBs right from the start,” Shipley said. “It crippled the mission. And because of my bungling at the Canadarm, we’re late.”

  “How long are you gonna’ kick yourself around about that? What makes you think you’re at fault anyway?”

  “I was manning the controls. Of course it was my fault.”

  The crew quarters became silent.

  “We’re late,” Shipley continued finally. “There’s nothing we can do about that, but we don’t have to be crippled.”

  “What are you talking about?” Lange asked.

  “I think you know.”

  Commander Lange looked at her crew. Each member smiled at her and nodded. “Ok,” she said, “I think it’s time we have ourselves a little talk.”

  ~~~

  “I can’t believe I’ve found you,” Maria said softly. She leaned over Todd, pulling her hair away from her face.

  Todd stared intently into her exquisite emerald green eyes. “Maria?”

  “Shhh,” she whispered, “they’ll hear us.”

  Todd reached out and touched her cheek. She’d been crying.

  “I love you Todd. I always have and I always—"

  “Riley!”

  Todd sat up in the darkness. “Wha—”

  “Riley, get on the phone!”

  Todd heard the grub shoot open, the tray being pushed in and the clanging of the hinged flap. Despair overwhelmed him again. “Another damn dream,” he whispered.

  He sat staring into the darkness for a time, slipped off his bunk and began feeling around for his meal. He narrowly avoided spilling his paper cup filled with Kool-Aid but was able to keep it from toppling over. In the middle of the meal he remembered the guard had told him to get on the phone. The thought of talking to Leland lifted his spirits a little. He quickly finished the meal and began bailing water out of his commode using the paper cup, just as he had done before. “Hello!” he said. “Leland, you there?”

  “What up, dun?” Leland’s husky voice echoed.

  “Leland, how ya doin’?”

  “Doin’ straight up, bro. Word up, I’m geese today.”

  “Huh?”

  “I’m getting out of the go-slow today.”

  “No foolin?” Todd said, feeling a pang of sadness. He had no idea how long he’d be there. The thought of talking to someone once in a while was about the only thing that made it bearable.

  “You’ll be outa’ here soon,” Leland said, obviously sensing Todd’s distress.

  “I’m not so sure. Have you heard anything about the asteroid?”

  “Not really,” Leland said.

  “I thought you had all the connections.”

  “I got a few.”

  “How about trying to find out when I get out of here?”

  “I’ll try.”

  “Any way you could find out where someone is?”

  “Inside the prison?”

  “No, outside of the prison.”

  “Now you’re pushing,” Leland said, laughing.

  “Yeah, just thought I’d run it past you. How about the asteroid? Can you find out about the asteroid?”

  “Yeah, probably.”

  “But you’re getting outa’ here soon,” Todd said after a pause.

  “I’ll have the hack give you the 411.”

  “You know the guard?”

  “We go back.”

  Well, I gotta’ go,” Leland said after a quiet spell. “They might be coming to let me outa’ here soon, you down? I don’t want the hacks catching me on the phone, know what I’m sayin’?”

  “Yeah, I know,” Todd said, already feeling the loneliness.

  “You’ll be fine, little brother,” Leland said softly. “You’ll be out of the go-slow soon.”

  “Yeah, I sure hope so.”

  “You will, and stay away from Hector. He’ll be clockin’ you.”

  “That’s likely not a good thing,” Todd said.

  Leland laughed. “No, he’ll be watching for you. But don’t plex. God’s got your back.”

  “Thanks Leland.”

  “One love brother,” Leland said, finally.

  A moment later he heard the toilet flush on the other end. “I hope he’s right,” he whispered in the darkness. “I don’t think I can take much more of this.”

  ~~~

  Multinational Surface, Space Environment, Geochemistry, and Ranging — also known as MESSENGER— was a spacecraft specifically designed to spend a year orbiting Saturn’s moon, Titan. It was built to analyze the moon’s density, investigate the structure of its terrestrial core and look for clues as to how it evolved and interacted with its mother planet.

  The recent discovery of a mountainous object careening towards the earth changed all that. Messenger was immediately sent on a near collision course with Saturn, a risky maneuver designed to use the planet’s gravitational pull as a slingshot. The maneuver had to be used three times to reach the necessary speed required to enable the craft to rendezvous with the space Trawler Douglas somewhere between Saturn and Jupiter. Its new purpose was to provide an off project vantage point. It was currently hovering sixty feet above Douglas transmitting live video feed into a record number of televisions back on earth, its unblinking eye watching the Douglas’s Canadarm buck and heave against its monstrous custom-built hydraulic drill.

  Dark, coruscating clouds of iron dust billowed surrealistically into the surrounding void as the diamond-clad drill-bit pushed its way deeper into the outer shell of Dante657.

  Extravehicular Activity Officer Tony Higbee’s voice crackled in the orbiter aft flight deck crew station’s COM speaker. “Hold ROSSO, it’s time.”

  “Roger EVA,” Payload Commander Joyce Shipley said. She shut down the drilling mechanism and began readjusting the Canadarm’s rotational and translational controllers until the big robotic arm pulled up and away from the surface of the asteroid. When the end effecter had finally reached a point far enough away from the surface, she maneuvered the shoulder yaw mechanism into alignment and shut down. She reached for the COM button. “Flight, SRMS is clear.”

  “Roger that, ROSSO.”

  Tony Higbee made one last visual check from his lofty vantage point within the Trawler payload bay. “EVA clear.”

  “Roger EVA,” flight said. “TOPO, you got a copy?”

  “Copied
it,” Trajectory Operations Officer John Palm answered from the flight crew station. “Looks like we’re good to rock.”

  Trawler Commander Lt. Colonel Andrea Lange hit the COM button. “Ok boys and girls…let’s do it again.” She checked her monitor for any possible system malfunction and ordered the computer to readjust the orbiter’s pitch and yaw.

  The constant maneuvering needed to compensate for the asteroid’s rotating orbit slowed the operation down to a maddening pace but was painfully necessary. They had successfully cleared a docking sight and drilled three holes in the surface of the asteroid. This would be the last hole needed to complete the four-point tether by which the main propulsion assembly would be attached to Dante657.

  Days earlier, the main propulsion assembly had been set in place. Its four elephantine platform legs had been unfolded to the amazement of the worldwide television audience. Three of the four Herculean tethers had been attached to the truck tire sized eyebolts, installed on the surface of the asteroid and secured in place within the drilled holes by means of a small but effective built-in blasting cap. The four colossal outstretched arms served two purposes. To insure a good steady pull for the two full minutes the main propulsion assembly would be firing, and hopefully insure that the white-hot plume of the engines wouldn’t burn the tethers when they fired.

  On Lange’s command, steering signals from the Trawler’s four computers activated the Trajectory Control Sensor and quickly computed range and closing rate. Within seconds, thirty-one of the thirty-eight steering jets realigned and began firing in a Terminal Phase Initiation Burn. A laser-ranging device mounted in the Trawler payload bay provided additional range and closing rate data to the onboard navigation systems. The Douglas began slowly realigning itself with the asteroid. Several small successive engine firings fine-tuned its final approach until the realignment had been achieved and all engines shut down. The Trawler slowly drifted the last few feet and bounced against the shock absorbing springs in the docking mechanism.

  Tony Higbee quickly unstrapped his security belt and moved to secure the docking bay. He drifted to the adjoining mechanism and began methodically checking each of the twelve automatic latches. When he was certain all was secure, he hit the COM button. “Docking secured. SRMS is clear to resume. I think we can finish this time.”

  “Roger EVA,” flight said. “ROSO, you copy?”

  “That’s affirmative Flight,” Shipley answered.

  “Let’s make it snappy kids,” Commander Lange said. “Tony thinks we can get it done this time.”

  “Aye, aye Cap’n,” Shipley answered, moving back to SRMS control, “Makin’ it snappy.”

  She moved the Canadarm back into position and quickly resumed drilling. The familiar shimmering black dust billowed into the void, as the rotating drill dug ever further into the iron surface of the asteroid.

  Within a short time, Tony Higbee’s voice crackled on the COM. “Hold ROSSO.”

  Shipley switched the in-flight monitor to the view from a centerline camera fixed in the center of the Douglas’s docking mechanism. The crew fell silent, all eyes fastened to the monitor. The figure of Tony Higbee moved in and out of the camera’s view as he precisely went about measuring the depth of the hole. After a few agonizing minutes, he slowly turned and gave the camera thumbs up. “That’s it,” his voice sounded on the COM, “we’re there.”

  “Yes!” John Palm cheered, slapping Shipley’s raised palm.

  “We’re there!” Shipley hollered.

  Tony Higbee was attempting a victory dance in his space suit within the Trawler cargo bay as Mission Specialist Aubrey Clawson shook her fists in glee. Commander Joyce Shipley laughed at the antics of her crew. After a moment, she motioned to Aubrey Clawson who was sitting next to her. “You can finally suit up now.”

  “Yes sir, ma’am,” Clawson answered. She released her belt and floated out of her seat.

  “This’ll be the last time,” Shipley said. “Once we tie down this last tether we’ll be ready to drag this damn asteroid to hell.”

  ~~~

  “Riley, wake up!”

  Todd’s eyes flew open in the darkness.

  “Shower in one hour!”

  Todd sat up on his cot. “Shower?”

  He slowly moved off his cot and crawled towards the only point of light in the cell, a small hole just above the grub trap. He moved towards it and did his best to cover the hole with his mouth. “Hey,” he hollered. “Am I getting out of here?” The guard had come and gone.

  He didn’t know how long he had been in the go-slow, but he hadn’t showered since he was thrown in there. He was pretty sure a shower meant he was finally getting out.

  Todd had discovered earlier that a small shadow fell over the grub hole light twice each night shift. He realized it was the shadow of the guard passing by. This new information allowed him to calculate the time that passed since Leland was let out—eleven night shifts—three and a half days. Leland had connections. Todd was hoping he had pulled some strings and one of the guards would fill him in on what was going on, but so far, he hadn’t heard anything. But now it looked like he was getting out. Excitement overwhelmed him. Maybe now he could finally talk to a lawyer.

  He realized he probably needed to try to find the clothes he had worn when he was thrown in the hole. He checked to see if he had anything on. No, he was completely nude. He crawled around on the floor till he was sure he’d found everything and put each article of clothing on one by one. His shirt still smelled of mace but the odor had dissipated.

  Finally, after what seemed like a millennium, the door clanged. Todd stood in anticipation. Nothing prepared him for the intense light that flooded the tiny cubical as the door flew open. The guard laughed when Todd threw his hands over his face and all but fell backwards onto his bunk.

  “It’s always a hoot to watch you maggots duck for cover when the lights came on,” the guard said, still laughing. His expression morphed to stern and resolute. “Hurry up, Riley. It’s time to wash your stinky ass.”

  “Am I gettin’ out?” Todd said, blinking against the blinding light.

  “Not if you don’t hurry up!” the guard barked.

  Todd closed his eyes, pushed one hand in front of him and began hobbling toward the door. The guard took hold of his arm and pulled him into the corridor.

  They turned right into another corridor and pushed through a swinging double door where he was jerked to a stop in front of a desk. “Put your clothes there,” an angry sounding male voice said.

  He uncovered his eyes and could barely make out a pair of black shoes on the floor in front of him. He quickly closed his eyes again and began taking his clothes off.

  “Hurry up,” the voice boomed. “You stink!”

  Todd threw his clothes on the desk.

  “Get him out of here!” someone else bawled.

  Another door opened and he was pushed into the showers. He stopped where he was pushed, and grimaced once more into the light, finding he could tolerate the light if he squinted most of it out. Two convicts were showering in the back of the room.

  “Whoa!” one of them yelled. “You stink, man!”

  Todd squinted in their direction.

  “Let me guess,” one of them said. “You just got out of the go-slow.”

  “Yeah,” Todd said.

  “Here!” the other convict said, pushing a bar of soap into Todd’s hand. Hurry up and wash. You’re killin’ us here!”

  Todd felt for a spigot and turned it on. He gasped and jumped away from the cold water.

  One of the convicts walked over, adjusted the temperature and turned away. “Hurry up!” he repeated.

  “Thanks,” Todd said as he slowly moved into the shower stream.

  “It’s ok kid,” the convict answered, “I been there.”

  Todd felt the warm water roll over him. He hadn’t felt that feeling in a long, long time. Goosebumps rippled over his body like waves as the gentle warm stream enveloped him. He tu
rned up the hot water, inducing yet another wave of euphoria. After a while, he noticed his eyes were finally acclimating to the light. One of the convicts was just finishing up and had turned his shower off. “What’s going on in the world?” Todd said as he passed by.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Did they get the asteroid?”

  “They’re just now getting ready to move it.”

  “They haven’t moved it yet?”

  “Nope, not yet.”

  “Have you seen it?”

  “Seen what?”

  “The asteroid.”

  “Oh yeah, it’s on TV all the time.”

  “Is it big?”

  “Yeah, it’s big.”

  “How big?”

  “You’ll see.”

  “You think they’ll move it?”

  “Look, I gotta’ go kid,” the convict barked.

  “Yeah, ok,” Todd said.

  As the convict left the shower, a guard looked in. “Hurry up Riley! You think this is all I do?”

  Todd quickly rinsed off and moved out of the shower. The guard threw a towel at him as he entered the room. “Get dressed!” he yelled, as another guard pushed a clean set of country blues towards him. He put the clothes on and the guard led him out of the room and into another hall.

  “Remember me?” Todd said, as they walked.

  The guard glanced at him.

  “Didn’t you work at the county jail for a while?” Todd asked.

  “Still do,” the guard said.

  “Remember that big priest? He came to see me the first night I spent in jail. You took me to see him. Member that?”

  The guard looked at him again. “Yeah, I remember. So what?”

  Todd fell silent for a moment. “I haven’t talked to a lawyer,” he said finally.

  “You’ll see your lawyer soon enough,” the guard snapped. “You just got out of isolation a few minutes ago.”

  “No, I mean, I ain’t seen a lawyer at all.”

  “Dude,” the guard grunted, “you think this is my first game?”

  “Seriously,” Todd said. “I ain’t seen a lawyer yet… at all.”

  “Ok kid, whatever you say.”

  “Look,” Todd said, “check it out. When I was arrested, I was never read my Miranda rights, never had a chance to talk to a lawyer, never got a phone call, nothin’.”

  “Look kid,” the guard said, yanking him to a stop, “I don’t care whether you’ve seen a lawyer or not. How do you like that?”