Dark Nights

by Christopher A. Gray

  She had been looking at Doug while he was speaking, but now she paused and looked away. She almost looked ashamed, as if she could no longer look him in the eye.

  Miekela got up and moved towards the workstations without another word. Doug was frustrated at her silence but he didn’t have many options, short of logging a protest when they returned to Earth. If they ever got back.

  He headed to an aft compartment to track down Smith. The two of them were still rehearsing the speech that had been written for Doug to give after they landed.

  – 63 –

  Bishop found an elementary school an hour’s drive from downtown Seattle. It was still early, so he sat on a park bench nearby. There were enough surrounding trees to offer some cover.

  An old man walking his little dog strolled by and waved. Bishop nodded a greeting and watched the old man pass. After he was out of sight Bishop reached down and checked his injured leg. It was painful and the bandage needed to be changed.

  He had lost consciousness during his descent when his suit ran out of oxygen. Once he had reached 15,000 feet the outside pressure was high enough to trigger an automatic valve in his suit backpack. It opened, letting in some air. He woke up hanging a couple of meters above the ground in a tree. The intact parachute had caught and tangled in the upper branches. His suit was torn in several places and he had some scrapes on his legs from contact with tree branches. His burn was a nagging pain.

  The general landing area had been chosen because it was wooded and isolated, but it had some wide cleared areas for electrical transmission pylons, and the location was not far from his final destination. He was extremely lucky to have missed the power lines. Had he been conscious he would have steered and landed further away from them.

  Bishop had unclipped himself from the parachute lines and with some effort managed to tear it down from the branches. Using a small shovel from his backpack he buried the chute under rocks and dirt in the forest nearby. He then cleaned the scrapes and applied a burn patch and bandages from the emergency kit.

  He had activated his passive GPS and walked two hours to the cabin. There was nobody inside, but there was non-perishable food, a map, five thousand dollars in cash, a dirt-capable motorcycle, a helmet and a change of clothes. He had expected to be met by his contact, but there was nobody around.

  The absence of the contact wasn’t a problem or a surprise. Whoever it was had plausible deniability should Bishop ever be discovered. More important, as long as Bishop couldn’t identify the contact, he couldn’t give him up under interrogation. Bishop had been authorized to terminate anyone that might compromise the mission, even those who were tasked with assisting him. He was not a career assassin, but he had more than enough skill and experience to take any action to preserve the integrity of the mission.

  Bishop swallowed a couple of antibiotic tablets from the emergency kit, checked his burn dressing, then ate some of the cabin rations.

  He had to get to his next destination quickly. During the parachute descent there was a chance he’d been spotted from the ground. To a casual observer he might have looked like a typical skydiver. But someone with a trained eye would have spotted the faint smoke plume of the disintegrating spacecraft and called the authorities. He changed into the civilian clothes and pushed the motorcycle outside the cabin.

  The map showed a hiking trail that met up with a road. The motorcycle started easily. Bishop rode about an hour on the trail to the road, and then another forty-five minutes to a motel. It was getting toward evening as he parked the bike around back. He paid cash and checked in under a false name, then fetched the bike and quietly wheeled it into his room and went to sleep.

  Five hours later he was woken by the alarm in his wristwatch. He got up, ate the last of the food and drove to the outskirts of the town nearby while it was still dark. On the approach to town the bike sputtered and stalled. Bishop made only a few attempts to restart it, then abandoned the effort. He did not want to chance a regular police patrol coming to his aid. He was going to need alternate transportation.

  Bishop removed the license plate, threw it down a grated sewer, then abandoned the bike a few hundred meters further on in a ditch away from the road where it wouldn’t easily be spotted. He walked the rest of the way on side streets to get to the park bench on which he was sitting, across the street from a school.

  It was 0910. The night had been cool but with the rising sun the air had warmed rapidly. There was a fine mist over the park as the last of the dew evaporated.

  All of the teachers had to be inside the school. Bishop got up and walked across the street to the school parking lot, trying not to limp from the pain in his lower leg. He found an older vehicle in a common color. Newer cars were of an unfamiliar design and likely contained some sort of GPS system that could be tracked.

  Elementary school teachers generally stayed in school all day, many eating lunch on the premises, so he would have a few hours before the theft was reported. More than enough time to reach his destination.

  He slid a thin tool past the driver’s side glass, slid it sideways, felt for the latching mechanism and unlocked the door. He got in, broke off the other end of the tool and used it in the ignition. He placed his package under the passenger seat and drove away.

  Bishop drove to the fringes of an industrial area and parked near a sparsely used driveway. At the appointed time a four-door sedan stopped nearby.

  Bishop got out and walked towards the sedan. He opened the passenger door and got in, extending his hand to agent Rector of FLO.

  Bishop suddenly got a small sense of what Doug had experienced, to meet an alternate version of the person you knew.

  Exactly the same but different. Rector didn't smile as they shook hands.

  “Let's get one thing straight,” Rector said immediately, his gaze unwavering. “The target suffered a head injury years ago. Hasn’t been the same since. Can’t keep a girlfriend. Keeps beating them up. Almost got himself demoted. He’s starting to become a pro-Mekhos fanatic. Not a nice guy. But he’s still good at his job and still has his security clearance. I’ll back you up, but I do not want to be in the same room when it happens.”

  “Understood.” There wasn’t much else Bishop could say.

  They drove to an apartment building and parked around back behind a large garbage bin. Rector handed Bishop an automatic pistol and a small tool pouch, then waited in the car as Bishop walked to the rear door of the building. Bishop entered a code in the keypad, opened the door when it unlatched and stepped inside the small back foyer.

  He found the elevator and took it up to the fifteenth floor. He extracted the tools and within ninety seconds picked the apartment door lock. Bishop entered quietly, checking carefully and quickly that the place was empty. He put a package under the kitchen sink, then searched for the Raim removal key. Rector had told him that most people kept them in a bedside nightstand or in computer desk drawer. He found the removal key in the computer desk drawer. He put the key in his jacket pocket then found a chair and sat down to wait.

  – 64 –

  On the last day of their journey, the crew of the Copernicus was again strapped into their seats as the engines applied full thrust for the five hours it would take to slow them down enough to enter orbit around FLO. It felt more physically punishing than the launch due to the fact that even with the counteracting drug at maximum dosage, their muscles had atrophied a small amount from six weeks of near constant weightlessness. Once in orbit they were again able to move about the ship to check systems and prepare for the landing, which was only a few hours away.

  On top of the physical punishment they had endured, everyone was suffering a wide range of anxieties about being so close to landing on FLO. Foley’s fever had not subsided and he had to be sedated. He had become increasingly argumentative and short-tempered, which was interfering with the ship’s operations. Doug helped secure him to his seat as the rest of the team strapped in and prepared for landing.


  As the ship entered the atmosphere Doug thought about one of his conversations with Stan a couple days earlier. Just before returning to his bunk Stan had said “Whatever happens now is up to God’s plan.” Doug had just stared at him in silence.

  God’s plan? Stan Foley had spent a grand total of one day in a church as long as Doug had known him, and that was for his wedding. Now he was finding religion? Stan’s fever wasn’t high enough to cause hysteria or hallucination.

  Unstable or not, Stan was still right about a couple of things. The actions Mekhos had taken would save FLO at the expense of Earth. It was easier to let someone die if the act which was causing the death protected yourself and your family from the same fate. It wasn’t as if Earth was right next door, its worsening conditions within view of anyone on FLO. Earth wasn’t going to blow up in some massive conflagration that would singe FLO. Exactly the opposite, Doug whispered to himself, we’ll just fade away into evolutionary history well out of sight of anyone on FLO with a conscience.

  But they were there to facilitate change. The mission was clear. They were not in it to fail.

  Doug did not know if they’d be given the chance to talk directly to Mekhos, or if the minders would insist on a FLO intermediary who would likely be biased. It nagged at him. How do you negotiate persuasively with a computer? How do you play cards with something that has all the cards? Part of him was utterly fascinated at the thought of having a conversation with a thinking computer, but he was also unnerved. Its intellect had not been measured, but it was clearly a formidable mind.

  Doug was jolted back to reality as the ship hit heavy turbulence. The rough ride was accompanied by several minutes of flaming ionization covering the windshield. Once they leveled out in the lower stratosphere the ride smoothed out. The ship banked and turned under computer control to scrub off speed. As it banked Doug was able to get a view outside while they were high enough to see the curvature of the Earth. It looked like home of course. He had to remind himself it was really an alien planet, and that he was farther away from home than anyone had ever traveled.

  It had been covered in their pre-launch briefing, but the stark reality was setting in. Despite being American citizens, they were utter foreigners in another America on another planet. They could travel to their hometown and be a stranger. They could watch a ball game and see that every player on the team was different from those they knew back home. There was not a single person they could turn to that would offer the comfort of friends, family, or ally beyond diplomatic platitudes. They were alone and at the mercy of their hosts.

  – 65 –

  Twenty minutes later as the Copernicus approached Andrews in preparation for landing, Doug strained to look out the side window. He was curious to see if he could spot any differences in the base from an aerial view. With the possible exception of one or two buildings he couldn’t see anything that stood out. The base looked exactly the same.

  They lined up for landing. Doug was now acutely aware of gravity weighing him down. His heart rate was elevated. Miekela had explained that all astronauts experienced it when returning to normal gravity, despite their regular exercise regimen and the drug designed to counteract the effects of prolonged weightlessness.

  The ship now felt exactly like an airliner. It touched down at 140 knots with the roar of reverse engine thrust beginning as soon as the nose wheel made contact, slowing them quickly. The Copernicus slowed to taxi speed as it neared the long limit of the runway, then turned to follow what appeared to be a military ground escort towards a designated hangar. Through the windshield Doug could see what looked like a welcoming delegation, seemingly all but identical to the one Doug had been a part of when the Envoy had arrived on earth over two months earlier.

  Bertrand and Jamieson were busy checking instrumentation and going through the shut-down checklist. The screens in the seatbacks in front of the rest of the team flashed to a safety harness unlock symbol.

  Bertrand pulled himself out of his seat and faced them.

  “You have ten minutes to stretch your legs and gather your belongings before we open the hatch. There will be a short welcoming ceremony, then we’ll all be taken inside for debriefing.”

  Doug turned as he heard Miekela’s voice behind him. “Remember to descend the aircraft stairs slowly when disembarking and walk carefully. There will be a shuttle bus so you won’t need to walk far, and you will be given assistance as necessary. We have found that most physical coordination returns after a couple of hours, and walking should be very easy after a day, though you will still feel a bit weaker than normal for a few days more.”

  Bertrand continued, “You can carry your on-board duffle bags with you. Other personal belongings and street clothing will be transferred from the hold to your quarters by the military ground crew. Thank you everyone. Dr. Lockwood, I transfer command of the team to you.”

  Bertrand gave Doug an informal salute, to which he nodded. Doug stood up, unsteady at first. It would take a few minutes for his inner ear to become reacquainted with gravity. He walked slowly to the workstation area, at first leaning on the seatbacks for support, then walked back towards his seat. It was difficult but he already felt himself getting used to gravity again. He felt as if he’d been bedridden for an extended period.

  Stan groaned. Doug turned to see that he was slumped over, his head in his hands.

  “Are you okay Stan?”

  “I feel sick to my stomach.”

  “Probably from the re-entry turbulence. I’m queasy too.”

  Miekela had moved to Stan. “We can get a wheelchair for you. I’m sure the base doctor is just outside. You’ll feel better once they see you to the infirmary.”

  Doug helped Stan attempt to get up, but both of them were unsteady.

  “I’m going to sit here a moment,” Stan said, as he lowered himself back into his seat. He was sweating. Miekela took his pulse.

  “The main door is being opened now Dr. Lockwood,” Bertrand said as he placed his hand on the latch lever. “It is time to visit my Earth. I will have the medical team come aboard immediately to assist Dr. Foley.”

  “Thank you,” Doug replied. “See you inside Stan. Lead the way Carl.”

  Doug followed Bertrand’s example and used the hand rail as he descended the stairs. His legs felt wobbly and his heart was pounding at the stress, but he found himself getting steadier as he reached solid ground walked a few steps on the tarmac. Jamieson and Smith were behind him. There was a already a team of four men dressed head to toe in bio protection gear. They paid the visitors no notice and quickly climbed the stairs to evacuate Foley as soon as Doug and his people were clear. Miekela had remained on board with Foley.

  Doug, Smith and Jamieson paused to look around.

  “I’m impressed,” said Smith. “Just like home.”

  Doug agreed. The mid-day air smelled different. It was spring in the U.S. northeast. It had been the beginning of some sort of strange and turbulent autumn back home, since FLO and Earth were in opposite orbits. It was a strange feeling, having the surroundings feel so familiar, and yet be slightly out of sync. He saw the same hangar where they had stood outside eleven weeks earlier to greet the Envoy. A quarter of a mile past the hangar he could see the base snack shop, the one with the old war veteran clerk and his wife, with the old-style cash register. He wondered if the same people ‒ or rather, their FLO alternates ‒ worked there.

  Subtle differences mounted up quickly, as if you’ve been away from your home town for a while and returned to find some old facades remodeled, a few old buildings demolished to make way for new ones, and strangers mixed in with the familiar faces. Though some of the people looked the same, nobody knew Doug. It made the experience stranger than ever. Even if the snack shop had the same owners, they wouldn’t recognize Doug Lockwood. Maybe they would have the same old cash register. He felt an urge to visit the shop to see for sure.

  Smith grabbed Doug’s shoulder. “Look,” he said.

  Doug
followed Smith’s gaze. There it was, low on the daytime horizon. The Moon. Their Moon. Much smaller than he remembered, since it was still on its way and hadn’t attained final orbit. Jamieson saw it too. The three of them stared at it for a moment. They were looking at something that had been stolen from them, and were about to confront the thieves that had taken it.

  “Here’s the vehicle,” Bertrand said, bringing the men’s attention back to the ground. There was no quarantine medical van. Copernicus had monitored everyone all the way and reported a clean bill of health during the landing.

  An open shuttle bus arrived with one passenger already on board. Doug was surprised to see that it was Stacey Lau. As the vehicle stopped in front of him he returned her smile but wasn’t sure if he should let on that he’d worked with her counterpart back home. She got out and extended her hand.

  “Welcome Dr. Lockwood! We are very pleased that you came. I’m Stacey Lau, White House Chief of Staff. I’m sorry to hear Dr. Foley isn’t feeling well.”

  As she moved to introduce herself to Jamieson and Smith, Doug glanced at Bertrand, who also had regular contact with the other Stacey. Bertrand gave a slight shrug and smile, acknowledging the situation but also treating it as routine. On FLO, Stacey occupied the position held by Arthur Leach back home.

  As he stepped into the shuttle bus Doug looked back and saw an ambulance arriving. Dr. Persaud was talking animatedly to the medical team at the ship, who were all wearing sealed masks. In view of what he knew of Foley’s condition he thought that was unusual. If Foley had an infection it had to be related to complications from his surgery and it could not be contagious. Even at this distance though he could tell that Miekela’s face was lined with tension.

  The shuttle bus carried them all of two hundred meters to the waiting delegation. There were probably three hundred people present. They cheered as the shuttle bus pulled up. Most of the delegation were waving small American flags, UN flags, and some others Doug didn’t recognize.