Rise of the Carnelians (Europa)

by Jason Gehlert

  “Excuse me.” Adrian’s words rumbled over the stage.

  The aged professor turned, startled, and looked at his unknown guest.

  “May I help you, sir?” Every word was drawn out with some sort of angry denotation.

  “I’m looking for someone,” Adrian responded. He turned back and scanned the crowd once more trying to locate Miss Nestor.

  “Who?” the professor’s voice was riddled with impatience.”And who exactly are you, anyway?” His small eyes squinted through his bi-focal glasses and sized up his gimpy intruder.

  “I’m here on official business for the president,” Adrian said.

  “Sure you are and I’m the Dalai Lama.”

  “That’s funny. You look taller in the pictures.”Adrian’s voice traveled through the microphone and over the captivated student body. A muffed laugher spread across the room.

  “Do you have proof?” the professor asked.

  “Yes I do.” Adrian withdrew his cell phone.

  “What are you doing?” The stunned professor watched Adrian punch in a series of numbers.

  “When he answers, be short and sweet. Say Adrian Blakely is here. He will tell you the rest.” Adrian handed over the small silver phone.

  Adrian impatiently waited for the professor to introduce him.

  Mouth open, the professor took the phone and placed it to his right ear as if it were covered in lice. Adrian heard the tinny voice of a man’s voice over the air.

  Adrian watched as the professor chatted with the president.

  “Adrian Blakely is here.” The professor nodded as the president chatted on the other end of the phone.

  He returned the phone to Adrian and then cleared his throat.

  “Will Angela Nestor, Franklin Lume, and Marsha Willows please come to the podium,” he said to his students.

  Adrian rocked back and forth, leaning on his arm brace for support.

  “Excellent.” Adrian watched the students as they swiftly approached.”The three of you come with me please.” When they arrived, he shuffled them across the stage and towards the exit door.

  Once Adrian led them out into the hallway, Angela stopped and folded her arms.”Where are we going?”

  Adrian turned his head to scan the beautiful young woman.”I need to have a talk with you.” Adrian waved his hand at Franklin and Marsha.”Please wait here while Miss Nestor and I have a chat.”

  “Who are you?” Marsha asked without moving. Her bleached blond hair kept wafting across her eyes. She pushed it aside every time she moved her head from side to side.

  “My name is Adrian Blakely, and I’m the wealthiest man in the world.” That phrase never did seem to grow old.

  “I did a report on your company for my economics class,” Franklin said, sporting a pleased look.”I look up to you.”

  “Nice. Now, please give me a few moments alone with Angela,” Adrian casually responded, although he really had no plans for the other two.

  “Where are we going?” Angela asked as she followed Adrian across the hallway.

  “President Forsythe has asked me personally to come and get you for a special mission.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, really,” Adrian’s snapped rolling his eyes.”He’s very impressed with your commitment to the United States Armed Forces. Your keen intelligence in the field of communications has led the president to handpick you for this extremely important mission. A mission that could save the Earth.”

  “I’m intrigued.” Angela followed Adrian down the hallway.”So, what’s the deal?”

  “The deal is, meet me here tomorrow night at 7 P.M.,” Adrian said as he handed her his business card. He let it rest between his left forefinger and middle finger, waiting for Angela to make the move.

  He watched her as she snapped up the black card with the gold lettering. “Blakely Aeronautics?”

  “That’s one of my many business fronts,” Adrian said.”Please, don’t be tardy. I will be starting on time.”

  Angela stared down shyly at the card and the color rose in her cheeks.”I don’t know,” she said, but when she raised her head, all she could hear was the clicking sound of the doors on the other side of the hallway. Adrian was gone.

  Gillian Shea

  Times Square

  New York City

  2:45 PM

  Thousands of resident New Yorkers stood below the gigantic screen, watching their president well into his lengthy State of The Union address. Their eyes were cemented to his presence on the screen. Watching. Waiting. They hung on to every word, clinging to each like a newborn to a blanket.

  Gillian Shea, a fiery thirty-year-old Irish geologist, stood cramped inside the gathering crowd. A swift wind blew her short red hair and danced just below her ears. Her fingers adjusted small wire framed glasses that rested slightly above an inadequate nose. Her desire to purchase contacts had become a faded reality once she found out how irregular her corneas had become. Clutched over her shoulder, a sturdy black knapsack that harbored her vitals: laptop, journals, and plenty of vitamin water, along with some health bars for hunger cravings.

  Gillian unconsciously measured the landscape around her, mentally contemplating the layers of limestone and shale under her feet . Even New York had its hidden dangers. Knowing she was the best geologist in the country, if not the world, didn’t help her shake this annoying habit. Nor did her frequent visits to the Oval Office that had her fellow colleagues drooling in envy. She smiled at the thought and focused on Forsythe’s haggard face. The president had always welcomed her into his good graces, ever since Yellowstone had begun her slow ascent to imminent eruption. Annihilation made strange bedfellows.

  The graying clouds hovered over the infamous Times Square, ready to burst with snowflakes. Gillian adjusted her hat, pulling it taut over her ears.

  “Do you believe this jackoff?” A man coarsely nudged into Gillian’s personal space.

  “Excuse me?” She threw him a dirty look and pounded the cold out of her shoulders to increase the distance between them.

  “This guy blows smoke. Yellowstone’s ready to blow? C’mon. Blow me, that’s what I say.” The abrasive man extended his middle finger high above his head and waved in the direction of the television screen.

  “This is serious, buddy,” Gillian scrunched her face at the man’s intense alcoholic laden breath.”When she erupts, there will be nothing left on this planet.”

  “When you erupt,” he snorted back. His pupils widened and he gave her a perverse grin.”Is that an invitation?”

  Gillian cocked a small fist and chucked it directly into the man’s belly, sending him spiraling towards the hard, cold pavement. His body lay strewn over the chipped white crosswalk, as several members of the crowd scrambled over him, not caring one iota if they stepped on him.

  “Now, that’s grit,” said a man on the other side of the sprawled pervert.

  Gillian sized him up in one glance and squared her shoulders.”You want some, too?” she snapped. She looked directly into his shifty, black eyes, waiting for him to be like the other abrasive man. But his cane deterred her for a moment, as a feeling of empathy swept over her, reminding her of her college years when a drunk driver had left her unable to walk for several months. The man closed the gap between them, and Gillian noticed his aging good looks, black hair, and definitive limp. It was him, it had to be.

  “No.” The man waved his hands in a meager defense.”I come in peace.”

  “Peace? What exactly do you want from me?” Gillian noticed the crowd expanding around them.

  “I am in need of your assistance with a very urgent matter.” His words were short and efficient.

  Gillian and Adrian were caught in between a steady wave of people, as they pushed and prodded their way through. It started to make normal conversation quite difficult.

  A scattering of snow danced through the cold air, sticking to Gillian’s glasses. “I didn’t catch your name,” she said.

 
“My name is Adrian Blakely, and the president sent me.”

  “That’s the dumbest come on line ever,” Gillian replied as she wiped off the snow, and peeked at the president’s address. She continued to search her mind for information on Adrian.

  “Seriously.” Adrian leaned on his brace.”The fate of the world hangs in the balance.”

  “Where do you get these lines? I hope you kept the receipt.” Gillian began to head north through the suffocating crowd.

  She heard Adrian’s muffled voice behind her as several people filled the void between them..”Gillian Shea!” he hollered above the noisy crowd.

  How did he know her name? She turned her head out of a curiosity and caught a glimpse of several people brushing past Adrian, knocking him off balance and sending him to ground. The crowd trampled over the helpless man, stepping on his metal brace. Not one stopped with a helpful hand.

  Shit, I can’t leave him on the ground. Gillian coached herself to go back and help Adrian.

  “Here,” she said, extending her hand.

  “Thank you.” Adrian took hold and pulled himself up, resting again on the battered brace.

  “How did you know my name?”

  “President Forsythe sent me to find you.”

  Gillian was bewildered at the answer.”Out here in Times Square?”

  “I was actually headed to your offices, but happened to stumble on you in the streets instead.” Adrian looked up at the screen.”If he’s right, we don’t have enough time.”

  “I agree.”

  “Please take my card.” Adrian handed her a small black and gold business card.

  “Blakely Aeronautics? That name sounds familiar. Have you ever spoken at Tulane University?

  “Yeah, several years ago. Why, where you there?”

  “Yes. I was a student at the time and found your talents very commendable.”

  “Be there tonight around 7 PM.” He tapped the card, and Gillian tightened her grip on it, whistling it out of his fingers aggressively. She didn’t know why.

  “I don’t understand,” she said.

  “Your talents are needed for this special mission of the president’s.”

  Gillian didn’t know whether or not believe him. Adrian’s eyes looked stern and sympathetic at the same time. She scowled at him.”Talents?” Gillian wasn’t sure where Adrian was going with this. She started to understand Adrian’s sly nature.

  “You are one of the leading world-renowned geologists, correct?” Adrian asked with a raise of his eyebrow.

  “Yes, I am.” Gillian placed the card into her jacket pocket.

  “Well then, you are just the person I need. Just the person the president needs for this important task.”

  “I’ll bite,” Gillian replied as she stared Adrian down.”Don’t fuck with me. I land a nasty uppercut.”

  “Oh, I know. I saw you lay that guy out before.” Adrian turned around and began his slow exit from the crowd.

  “Okay then. 7:00.”

  Gillian’s lower lip grew into a giddy smile. Her mind got the best of her. A special mission from the president.

  Then it hit her. Of course, Adrian Blakely, billionaire. The richest man in the world. Gillian remembered full well his standing in American society. His wealth and crude monopolistic practices earned Adrian a coveted place inside the president’s close circle, and one of Adrian’s side projects supported geological science. A true love of Gillian’s. Was that why the president had tagged her? If anyone could sponsor such a task, it would be Adrian Blakely.

  A gust of wind stirred, twirling the snow around the gigantic television screen. A collection of snowflakes floated across President Forsythe’s face as he wrapped up his State of the Union address.

  Blakely Aeronautics

  NEW YORK CITY

  7:00 PM

  Adrian Blakely had waited for this his entire life. He was inches away from spearheading one of the most daring, intriguing missions ever organized in the history of America. The mission to Europa would make the 1969 moon landing look like child’s play. Sputnik, Mir, and even the broadest attempts at unearthing Mars for colonization, all paled in comparison to the Europa Agenda. Each previous administration had attempted larger scale initiatives. Several attempts were made at constructing space modules, satellites, and even robotic unmanned crafts aimed at exploring our immediate solar system and beyond in search of inhabitable destinations. Adrian’s influx of cash had made it a possible reality for NASA to construct technologically superior systems compared to their previous predecessors’ ambitious programs. Adrian had successfully gathered all the necessary components to make this mission a thriving success. His tour over the last seven hours, had culled the greatest minds, talents and personalities that money could buy. If he was able to sway them with the promise of their prominent legacies intact, then Adrian would have done his job successfully.

  A few minutes before 7:00, Adrian scanned his warehouse in one of his usual nervous routines. His hands clenched together, his stomach churned with an ulcer the size of Delaware, and his head swelled with a minor trembling of a migraine. The burning within his deteriorating leg mocked him, and lured him into striving even harder to overcome the searing agony. His ego would not let these painful ailments deter his ultimate goal: to become an astronaut and be the first man to successfully drive the American flag into Europa’s waiting soil.

  Adrian glanced at his rather expensive watch, wondering, hoping his tour had made an impact of sorts, and he would be able to gather these people together. Adrian was dressed very tautly, wrapped up in a lengthy black European trench coat. His neatly trimmed beard offered a sensible look for a cutthroat businessman.

  A series of headlights broke through the greasy glass, sending a prism against the empty warehouse wall. Adrian turned to see Seth entering the double doors.

  “Adrian.” Seth briskly walked across the barren area, his steps forcing an echo to bounce off the walls.

  “Seth, glad you could make it.” Adrian firmly clasped Seth’s outstretched hand.

  Gillian’s voice echoed from behind them.”Mr. Blakely?”

  “Ah, Miss Shea, do come in.” Adrian felt a small bout of giddiness inside his rumbling belly, as his guests started to arrive.

  “Nice spread. Got cable?” Gillian chortled. She adjusted her glasses and glanced around the darkened warehouse.

  “I tend to keep my business meetings low key,” Adrian responded with a firm handshake.

  “Who is he?” Gillian asked, hooking her thumb toward Seth.

  “I’ve invited several of you here tonight.” Adrian noticed another round of headlights outside.”This mission is very important, and I was instructed to recruit only the best money could buy.”

  “Money?” Seth and Gillian asked together.

  “In due time I will explain everything. Please, have a drink at the bar, or have a seat in the conference room upstairs.”

  “I think I’m going to need that drink,” Seth responded with a slick grin at Gillian.”Care to join me?”

  “Sure. I can’t say no to free drinks. It beats drinking vitamin water all day.”

  The two made their way upstairs and into the large conference room.

  Angela Nestor was the third guest to arrive, entering the emptied warehouse wrapped up in a leather jacket and long scarf against the cold.

  “Miss Nestor,” Adrian said.”Thank you for coming.”

  “Hello.” Angela scanned the large warehouse.”Is this what I’m missing CSI:Miami for?”

  “Oh, trust me, this will make that television show a distant memory.” He held out his hand.

  “Ok, I’m game.” Angela met his grip solidly.

  “I’m still waiting on three more, so please, make yourself comfortable upstairs in the conference room. There is a top of the line bar and buffet all set up.”

  “You feed us, too?”

  “I’ve always decided that in a business, well-fed workers are happy workers.”

>   She curled her lip, gave him a quick nod, and turned to the stairs. Adrian pivoted on his arm brace and stared at her ass. A crooked deviant smile stretched across his face.

  Adrian felt his cell phone vibrating inside his pocket. He retrieved the phone, flipping it open to expose the caller ID.

  RESTRICTED.

  “Adrian Blakely,” his voice fizzled against the static riddled call.

  “Mr. Blakely,” a heavily accented grizzled voice replied.

  Adrian immediately recognized it.”Ah, Mr. Thaddeus Kaspar.”

  “Ulysses and I will be there shortly. Our flight was delayed due to the snowstorm tracking across Russia.”

  Adrian could hear some scattered chattering in the background. It could be coming from the airplane, or perhaps a tavern or restaurant. He was well aware when his clients were lying to him.”Hold on a second.” Adrian cupped the phone and slowly walked over to the far corner of the warehouse. He unlatched the locks to his briefcase and pulled out his laptop. Within a few milliseconds, his web page was clearly visible.

  “Mr. Blakely?” Thaddeus’s Russian accent was very thick, but Adrian had no trouble understanding it. .

  “Are you sure you and your friend aren’t enjoying fine American drink and women at the local bar down the street?” Adrian coolly accessed the weather page that linked him to every possible country in the world. He needed the highly evolved laptop to prepare his shipments for delivery across the globe. He scanned the data with a sharp eye. Russia was underneath the heavy fist of a damaging snowstorm. Kaspar was indeed telling the truth; a major snowstorm had crippled Russia’s main airports and roadways. Travel was at a standstill.

  “How late will you be?” Adrian asked.

  “I will be landing at J.F.K. in under an hour.”

  “I will send someone to pick you up.”

  “I’m brining Dr. Philene Fanchon with me, as well.”

  “Really?”

  “Dumb luck, as you American’s would say. We ran into each other and Ulysses starting talking to her.”