The Reluctant Emissary (The Annunak Series Book 1)

by TM Toombs

  “Your turn, and I checked. You have a brand-new zipper cord on yours so you won’t be needing someone to help you zip up,” Jerry said, pointing to an even larger suit hanging in a now-opened locker built into the corridor outside of the cargo hold. Eshan repeated the same steps he’d watched Jerry perform and then turned so the stocky pilot could zip him up. A difficult task since Eshan was a good foot-and-a-half taller than Jerry.

  “Right.” Jerry was sweating with the effort of suiting up. “Now comes the fun part. Helmets and unloading. Anything broadcast over our suit’s comm system can be picked up, so no unnecessary chatter. Watch me and I’ll give you hand signals for what goes and what stays. Got it?”

  Eshan nodded as if radio silence was already a necessity. And silence from whom? A shiver edged up his suited spine as Jerry pulled out two bulky helmets. He handed one to Eshan and placed his own his on his head and twisted it closed with a solid click. He helped Eshan place and lock his then gave Eshan the thumbs up.

  Jerry slapped the wall panel to open the door to the cargo hold and passed through the hatch as it hissed open. Eshan followed close behind him into the cargo hold, stuffed with crates strapped to rings in the floor. Once Eshan was through, Jerry hit a panel on the opposite side of the door and the door closed. Punching in a code, the giant cargo hold door began to open on the far side of the hold. Eshan was sucked forward against a stack of boxes as the atmosphere rushed out of the opening. Jerry caught him by the arm and steadied him. Eshan gave him the thumbs up to say thanks.

  Jerry tugged on Eshan’s arm and pointed to a pile of small boxes attached to the ship’s floor with a stiff cargo netting. He silently showed Eshan how to loosen the straps, then pointed to the open door. Eshan nodded and went to work loosening the remaining straps. After they were all free, he hoisted several of the boxes and carried them outside of the ship.

  Slowly turning around in a complete circle, he absorbed his new home. Other than the ship and a mundane grayish building that blended into the landscape, the place was desolate. It reminded him of his high school class trip to Death Valley. There was more death and less valley here.

  Pushing away the sudden feeling of dread, Eshan dropped the boxes he was carrying near the door to his new quarters and returned to the belly of the ship for more recently acquired goods.

  In a little over an hour, all the supplies designated for Moon Base Charon were piled up in stacks, sitting on the landing pad next to a one-story, modular structure. Eshan set down the last crate and carefully studied the side of the building facing him. It was about 100 feet long as near as he could calculate. At each end, a short tunnel-looking appendage with a hatch acted much like the Arctic Entries that Eshan had grown up with. Filling the space in the wall between the two entryways were two large mirrored picture windows.

  Before he could take a step closer to try to see into the windows, he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned and found Jerry motioning for him to follow him back into the ship. They entered and Jerry closed the cargo hold. When the compartment was re-pressurized, Jerry keyed in the code to open the door. They exited the hold and Jerry motioned to Eshan to take off his helmet and gloves. With a twist, Eshan lifted his helmet off and placed it and his gloves in the wall locker.

  “Don’t take off your suit, we’ll only be a few minutes,” Jerry said, setting down his own helmet. He led Eshan to the built-in animal crate and pointed at the kitten. “Don’t forget that.”

  “How am I supposed to get her into that building?” Eshan looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

  “Not my problem, bro,” Jerry laughed. The stunned look on Eshan’s face made him laugh harder. “I’m kidding. You really think I’d make you take kitty out into the vacuum of space without some sort of protection?” Jerry opened a large compartment and wheeled out a self-contained pet carrier. He pushed a couple of buttons and it began to hum.

  “All systems are working. That should get your kitten safely into your HAB. All you have to do is convince the fluff ball to get into it.”

  “HAB?” Eshan asked as he opened the modified pet crate and scooped up the sleepy kitten.

  “Yeah, habitation facility, or HAB for short,” Jerry explained, watching Eshan attempt to put a wiggling kitten into a loud, unfamiliar, and very scary box.

  Using both hands, Eshan was finally able to wrangle all the kitten’s clawing paws and nipping face and place her into the carrier without much blood loss. He quickly closed the hatch before she could make a bold escape.

  “Only one thing left,” Jerry said as he pointed back towards the way they’d come. “Home, sweet, home.”

  Eshan nodded and maneuvered the wheeled carrier towards the cargo hold door. They donned their helmets and gloves, repeated the process to exit the ship and were finally standing at the closest hatch to the large pile of supplies.

  Jerry located the control panel on the hatch door and punched in the code then held up his fingers and showed Eshan the code: 4 - 2 - 4 - 2. The door slid open and revealed an interior hatch six feet deep. Eshan pushed the pet carrier in, followed by Jerry. Jerry pointed at the entry pad on the hatch door as the door behind them slid shut. Eshan punched in the code he had just been given and watched as a small screen flickered to life.

  “Pressurization commencing…please wait.” After a minute, it updated. “Proceed.” The second door slid open and the interior lights hummed to life, filling the stark room with harsh, sterile, florescent light. Eshan shoved the pet carrier through the interior hatch, followed closely by Jerry. Eshan stopped in the middle of the room and looked around, taking in his new accommodations. At least it was bigger than his apartment back in Anchorage.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the hatch was still opened. He walked over and studied the panel on the wall, looking for a way to close it. Jerry was instantly at his side, and pointed at the obscure “CLOSE” button hidden at the bottom of the keypad. Eshan punched the button and the door closed, followed by a soft whooshing noise. Jerry took off his helmet and indicated Eshan do the same.

  “The inside hatch doesn’t close automatically, so make sure you always close it,” Jerry informed Eshan as he pulled his helmet off. “I’d give you the grand tour, but I’ve never been here before. So, you’re on your own. Any questions?”

  “You aren’t going to help me get all the supplies moved in here?” Eshan’s eyebrows scrunched together.

  “Naw, I have a schedule to keep,” Jerry said with a quirky smile. “If I’m late getting home, my wife has threatened to give my dinner to the dogs again. Besides, you've got all the time in the world to do it yourself. And I’m sure Lt. Rodgers is getting antsy to put a little distance between us and the outer perimeter.” Jerry leaned his back against the heavy, pressure door.

  “Outer perimeter?” A pitiful mewing noise emanated from the pet carrier. Eshan walked over and knelt down to look through a peep hole at the kitten. He was met by two big, curious gray eyes.

  “Yeah, it’s the technical term the government gave this area. Kinda like the old neutral zone the North and South Koreans used to have.” Eshan nodded his understanding.

  “Have there been many skirmishes with the enemy aliens? Is there some sort of protocol I need to follow if I cross paths with one?” Eshan wasn’t sure how he’d handle himself if he ever came across an alien. He’d never actually seen one of the benevolent Greys, except on TV. There was just something about them that didn’t sit right with him. But if the enemy aliens from Proxima Centauri had even the Greys scared, Eshan didn't want anything to do with them.

  “I’ve heard rumors, but nothing I’d hang my hat on,” Jerry said as he pushed off from the door and moved closer to Eshan, still kneeling beside the pet carrier. He placed a hand on Eshan’s shoulder. “I know you’re trying to drag this out, but I really do need to get going. You’ll be fine.” Eshan searched his face for any hidden meaning behind his words but only found a genuine honesty. Eshan nodded as Jerry walked back to the hatch.
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  Jerry turned. “All the procedures and protocols are in the manuals. I’ll be back every month with a supply drop. Any special requests?”

  Eshan thought for a minute. “Nothing comes to mind, but thank you.”

  Jerry nodded. “See ya in about a month.” He replaced his helmet, punched in the door code and was gone before Eshan could blink. A quiet meow drew his attention back to the wheeled crate.

  “I’ll let you out after I bring in all the supplies,” he said, peeking into the viewing hole at the tiny blinking eyes. “Why am I talking to a cat?” He stood up and walked to the hatch. After he put on his helmet, he entered the code and made his way outside. He stood in front of the outside hatch and watched the transport ship lift off in silence. A moment later, dust and debris settled over him from the take off. Once he lost sight of the ship, he moved over to the closest pile and began moving containers into the entrance corridor.

  Hours later, after bringing in the final container, he closed the inside hatch. Setting down the box, he leaned against the wall and removed his helmet. He wiped his forehead with the back of his gloved hand. Who knew working in zero atmosphere could cause you to sweat?

  He looked around at the haphazard stacks of equipment and sighed. At least putting everything away and organizing his supplies would keep him busy for a couple of days. He would need more than that eventually to keep him occupied, but this was a start. As he studied his mess, his stomach growled. Thankfully this time in hunger and not in an attempt to empty its all-too-empty contents yet again. He moved off from the wall and began to remove his spacesuit. He left it in a heap on the floor and made his way around a tower of boxes to the carrier. He palmed the opening and the kitten bolted out as if her tail was on fire. She careened off a tilted stack of hard cases, sending it toppling over with a loud crash. The kitten sprung up in the air with a terrified hiss. Her fur puffed out, making her look twice her size. Once her feet hit the ground, she quickly disappeared behind another mountain of supplies.

  Eshan closed his eyes and shook his head as he heard another crash followed by an excited hiss. The terrified kitten would have to wait. He rubbed his temples as he opened his eyes to the sharp initial pangs of a headache.

  “Where the hell is the food?” he asked himself as he began sorting through boxes. A minute later, he found a box labeled “MREs - Meals Ready to Eat.”

  “I thought I was finally away from these after I left the Guard,” he mumbled. “I hope they packed me some antacids.”

  He made quick work of opening the case and rummaging through the assorted dinners, finally deciding on one. “You can’t go wrong with macaroni and cheese,” he smirked, taking his vacuumed sealed meal into the kitchen area. He spied the microwave but looking for utensils, came up with nothing but empty cupboards and drawers. He sighed, glancing back at the unopened boxes. After searching through more boxes, he located one filled with all the cooking supplies. He mindlessly prepared his food, all the while listening to distant meowing coming from another part of the HAB. Leaning against the counter, he shoved a heaping spoonful of cheesy macaroni into his mouth and instantly scalded his tongue.

  “Gawdamnsumofabitch!” he yelled as he tried to move the lava-hot food around his mouth with his tongue to avoid burning himself further before he swallowed.

  At a sudden high-pitched shrill alarm, Eshan jumped up, fumbled his bowl of macaroni and cheese, and watched it flip from his hands and splat on the floor upside-down, entombing his dinner. For a split second, he thought about scooping it up and finishing it, but the deafening alarm persisted, demanding his immediate attention.

  He scanned across his maze of stuff and found a closed door marked “COMM ROOM,” a light blinking beside it. He dashed towards it, stumbling over his open box of MREs. The box overturned, spilling dozens of foil-wrapped meals across the cluttered floor. “Shit!”

  The door to the Comm Room slid open as he neared it and inside, he could see the lights on an array of consoles springing to life. Across the 10-foot by 10-foot room, a monitor flashed a warning about an unknown contact entering the Outer Perimeter. Eshan stopped halfway and stared. The corner of his right eye twitched. Overhead, the piercing alarm assaulted his ears, his headache pounding behind his eyes.

  He took a deep breath, steadied himself and crossed the room. He pulled out the chair in front of the monitor and plopped down, trying desperately to ignore the blasting alarm. An instruction binder sat on the desk in front of the monitor. He opened it with shaking hands and flipped to find the index. He scanned the page with his fingers until he located the chapter titled “Alarms.” He quickly thumbed to that section and searched for information about radar alarms.

  “An alarm emanating from the yellow- and black-striped speaker box indicates a proximity alert. Possible activation causes for the proximity alarm are as follows:

  Meteor showers

  Spacecraft under power

  Drifting spacecraft

  Spacecraft in geo-synchronous orbit

  Space debris

  Space dust clouds

  Space ice clouds

  Space ice-dust clouds

  Disruption of the power supply (See ‘Power Supply’)

  Loose wiring

  Failure to calibrate system after installation

  In the event that the alarm was triggered by a physical object, the radar array will detect an object when it crosses the five (5) mile barrier. (See ‘Five (5) Mile Barrier’)

  To distinguish between a true radar hit and a false radar hit, perform the necessary diagnostic test protocol. (See ‘Diagnostic Test Protocol’)"

  “You have got to be effing kidding me,” Eshan muttered as he flipped through the manual, looking for the test protocol. Finding the section, he skimmed the page. The last sentence caught his attention.

  “After completing all diagnostic tests, if the alarm is still active, perform the shut down and restart procedure. (See ‘Shut Down / Restart Procedure’)"

  "Enough of this shit!" Eshan angrily flipped through the pages until he reached to section titled “Shut Down / Restart Procedure.” Studying the brief instructions and diagram, he left the computer station to search for the alarm’s power source located behind the bank of monitors across from where the alarm monitoring workstation still strobed its neon-glare warning.

  He climbed up onto the desk top and attempted to look behind the narrow gap between the monitor bank and the wall. Angling his neck, he could just make out the power switch half way down the wall. Eshan tried to fit his arm into the gap, but was only able to squeeze his hand and wrist down behind the monitors. Pulling his hand free, he slid off the desk and climbed under it. He found that the backing of the desk stopped six inches up from the thinly carpeted floor. Lying on his back, he reached up behind the desk and felt the power box. Fondling the box, he managed to locate the switch and turn it off. The ear-splitting alarm instantly fell silent, and Eshan dropped his head to the carpet in welcomed relief.

  As the manual had instructed, he quietly counted out 60 seconds. Holding his breath, he snapped the power switch back on. And waited. No alarm. He counted 60 more seconds. Nothing. Eshan pulled his arm out and rolled out from under the desk. Climbing to his feet, he slapped at the dust on his pant legs.

  He glanced back toward the manual. Or the joke, as he realized Jerry had considered it to be—and Eshan now knew why. He figured there was more likelihood of space debris or any of the other innocuous proximity violations than a real violation by "spacecraft under power." Like they couldn't provide a monitor that could tell the difference? And how any engineer figured a person could tolerate that ear-splitting, head-thumping noise while turning from one manual section to another was beyond him.

  Every fiber in his body begged for something—his stomach gnawed for food, his eyes begged for sleep, and his muscles felt like mush. If an alien wanted to land and blast him to smithereens, so be it. At least that would end the lonely misery he felt deep in his soul.


  Eshan shuffled out of the Comm Center and back to the mess he’d left in the kitchen. Staring down at the upside-down bowl between his feet, he felt a gentle pressure against the back of his left leg. He turned and raised his arm to get a better look and found the kitten rubbing against his leg.

  “Oh,” he muttered, “I forgot about you, ya little shit.” He bent over and picked her up as if she were a baby with a soiled diaper. She dangled from his hands, meowing insistently. “What are you trying to tell me?” he asked her. She meowed a little louder, as if to tell him to find the manual on cats, dummy.

  He set her down and watched her sniff at his upturned bowl. “Ah! I bet you’re hungry!” He lifted the bowl and macaroni tumbled out like a cheesy avalanche. The kitten quickly began licking the cheese off the floor and inhaling macaroni bits. Eshan shrugged and returned to the scattered MREs. Picking one up, he read the contents.

  “Spaghetti it is.”

  Half an hour later, Eshan reclined in the lounge chair in the space reserved as a living room, scraping the last of his dinner off a plate with a stale piece of garlic bread. The kitten was asleep on the sofa having eaten almost twice her weight in macaroni and cheese. He sighed and slowly stood up. The food had helped but now fatigue grappled for his attention. It was tempting to leave the various messes and go find a bed but he was afraid of what, or more specifically, who, waited for him in his dreams.

  He shuffled his bare feet across the floor towards the kitchen and placed his dish in the sink. He picked up the bowl off the floor and placed it in the sink on top of the plate then turned on the water until the water spilled over the sides of the bowl and flooded the plate. Turning off the water, he decided to let the dishes soak and looked for something to clean up the last of the food on the floor. He found a box of paper towels in his strewn supplies and slowly knelt to clean the floor. The kitten walked up to him, slowly stretched then sat down in a spot he’d just cleaned and watched him finish.