by Alan Spencer
A message repeated over the intercom.
"STEP INTO LINE ONE IN FRONT OF THE OTHER. ABSOLUTELY NO TALKING. ALL YOUR QUESTIONS WILL BE ANSWERED VERY SOON. IF YOU HAVE ANY MEDICAL NEEDS, PLEASE RAISE YOUR HANDS. ONE OF OUR ASSISTANTS WILL BE RIGHT WITH YOU. STAY CALM. YOU ARE SAFE. YOU ARE ON THE REDEEMER."
A crewperson urged Gaby into the forming line. Ram forced his way forward so he was right behind her. Gaby didn't want anything to do with him. She was deathly pale and visibly shivering. He hoped she would snap out of it soon so they could talk.
Ram didn't push her with questions. If he forced explanations, he would only be denied. Timing was everything. The best plan he had was to keep her in his line of sight, and then let her come to him.
Ram couldn't believe what had happened. The city of Houston had melted. Who knew how much of the earth remained uncooked? Environmental concerns were at the forefront of politics and news lately. Smog, acid rain, and global warming were hot topics, but these were supposed to be concerns to worry about centuries from now, not in the present tense. Whoever owned this mega craft and arranged for people with the wristwatches to be picked up amidst the chaos knew something the rest of the people didn't.
Questions, questions, questions, and Ram had no way to answer them.
He followed the intercom's commands. He walked calmly behind Gaby. They left the landing area and entered a single narrow hallway. The tight chambers smelled of burnt clothing, sweat, and echoed with the subtle sound of crying.
The hallway emptied out into a larger room. He compared it to a giant movie theatre, minus the seating. Everybody stood in front of a giant screen. Ten minutes passed before the lights finally dimmed and an image appeared on the screen.
A symbol with a cartoon picture of Earth was shown, and then the Earth turned the color of gold. Beneath the symbol it read: Globo Corps. A woman's voice spoke through the state-of-the-art sound system and announced, "Globo Corps. Eyes set to the future."
Ram wasn't sure why his stomach did a flip. He felt like an interloper. That general who melted near his apartment was supposed to be standing here with his daughter, not him.
Before he could worry anymore, the presentation began.
An older scientist dressed in a lab coat with graying hair combed back into a ponytail stood in front of a giant graphic of blue prints and started talking.
"Hello, my name is Dr. Dean Fleming. You each have been selected to be delivered to Second Earth on our vessel, The Redeemer. Through Globo Corps' selection process, you have been specially chosen by lottery, class, contribution to society, and special vocations and skills. You will be needed to ensure what happened on Earth does not happen on Second Earth. We must ensure the future of the human race by learning from our previous mistakes. Globo Corps has brought you all here to do just that."
Dr. Dean Fleming disappeared. The screen showed a live feed via space satellite. The shot was a wide-panning view of Earth. Across every inch of land, earth was in flames. Parts of the earth imploded, sunk into itself, and was replaced by a red hot mass of liquid like magma. The planet resembled the sun, how it seethed heat and boiled.
The scientist continued to narrate:
"Please, don't let this alarm you. The Redeemer has already taken off and left the danger zone. We are safe. Yes, I'm afraid the earth is going to explode in approximately seven minutes and thirty seconds. Globo Corps has seen this coming for years. Before we could build enough vessels to save all humans from this catastrophe, our time had run out. This is the best we could do under time, budget, and technological constraints.
"Why the earth has seemingly heated up and destroyed itself is a bit of mystery. Sure, pollution and global warming are suspects, but the best hypothesis, my hypothesis, is that the earth was simply on a timer. It's time has come and gone. Now it's time for a new world. There was nothing anybody could do to stop this inevitable crisis. We need to take this golden opportunity to start over and really run with it. It's a tragedy so much life has been lost. That's why we must cherish this gift and embrace this new opportunity to tread into the future that is much smarter, and kinder, to the environment."
Dr. Fleming stood in front of a graphic of the solar system. The planets shifted around, and it stopped on a distant blue speck far out in the galaxy.
"Twenty years ago, Globo Corps, through private research, happened upon a planet much like Earth. The conditions there can sustain human life. We can grow crops, build housing, and secure the future of humanity. Globo Corps decided to keep this a secret while we conducted research, built housing, and had people live on the planet to prove its sustainability over a period of time."
The camera closed in on Dr. Fleming's gaunt face.
The man lived and breathed insane science.
"I know this is so much to take in at once, so I'll skip to the most important stuff: how this affects you. We want this ride to be a relaxed adventure. The Redeemer has been built as a fun ship, as much as a military vessel. That means open bars, dancing, partying, and letting it all go. So enjoy what Globo Corps has provided you. I wish you safe travels. As the surviving members of Earth, we have a great responsibility to secure the future of humanity. We must carry the torch proudly."
The film ended.
The lights were turned back on.
Everybody stared at the screen as if they expected more information to come. The answers provided weren't satisfactory. The horror of Earth being gone had yet to sink in, and having this new information forced upon them was too much to ingest, or that was Ram's take. Saying the room overflowed with nervous energy would be an understatement.
That's why Ram didn't expect the boisterous fat man dressed in a black business suit from behind him to declare, "It's Ram Rogan! I'll be damned. It's really you. The man. The legend. I thought this day couldn't get any crazier. Ram Rogan. Best damn quarterback the St. Louis Rams ever had. Forget Tom Brady, or Joe Namath, and those other assholes. You throw a pigskin with that laser rocket arm like no other. You got a hand cannon. Mega launcher, more like it. Man, the year you won the Super Bowl, you became a hero. That was so awesome. You made America's heart skip a beat. I'm a big fan of yours. Huge fan."
Ram remembered that Super Bowl game. It was the last of his career. Ram was known to throw a football so hard that he broke his wide receivers' fingers. The number of touchdowns, rushing yards, and games he won meant nothing up against one statistic.
One religious terrorist killed.
Ram took out Jake Lazar. Jake was the leader of the religious movement called "Red Salvation". This group aimed to steer the world back into God's grace by any means necessary, including murdering, bombing, and executing public figures in public places to get their message across. They were the first American religious cult group in years to take the forefront of the news and gain attention on such a mainstream level.
Jack Lazar chose to sneak into the end zone of Ram's final game with enough explosives attached to his body to take out the entire stadium. Before Jake could finish his anti-American rant, Ram chucked a Hail Mary pass from fifty yards out that struck Jack Lazar in the face so hard, it shattered the bones of his nose and shoved those shards into his brain and instantly killed him.
Ram Rogan saved the day, and instantly became a national hero. Ram enjoyed the notoriety, the endorsements, the commercial time, the sex, the drugs, the fame, but the group Red Salvation had plans for Ram and his family. It cost him so much later on down the line, and to think about the big game delivered a fresh sense of dread into this already terrible situation.
Dealing with this fan who picked him out of a crowd of weary survivors wasn't something Ram was ready to deal with, so he acknowledged that yes, he was in fact Ram Rogan. The Ram Rogan.
"I'm Ernie Pine." Ernie shook Ram's hand vigorously. "It's an honor. Purely an honor."
Before Ram could attempt to dodge the questions, a group of men in the white suits and heavy armor with head gear charged in at Ram. Before Ram could qu
estion why they were coming after him, he was tasered. Electricity surged into his body.
Ram dropped to his knees and unleashed a roar of agony. The electricity under his skin paralyzed him. Two more taser guns joined in, and he was blasted with such an electric charge, Ram blanked out. The last thing he saw was Gaby's horrified face, and the panicked crowd recoil from the scene.
Part Two: All Systems Are Go—Maybe
Power Station
"I had to suck the biggest dick to get this job."
"At least you only had to suck one. I had a whole room of dicks to deal with, and believe me, not a single person on Globo Corp's committee had a problem getting it up."
"Hey, I'm not complaining. You shouldn't either. I'm grateful to be alive. Our families got on board this one-way ship free and clear."
"Lucky is not strong enough a word, buddy. Thousands applied for our positions and got turned down flat."
"Yeah, and they're probably vapor floating in deep space by now."
"Globo Corp didn't make it easy to get that golden ticket onto the Redeemer."
"Yeah. We earned it. Now we got a job to do. If we complete the task, we'll be set for life. We shouldn't complain. Ever."
Marty "Mooch" Mitchell and Joslin Davis sat in chairs side-by side in front of a control panel that controlled the ship's power supply. Mooch and Joslin were one of very few who understood The Redeemer's special source of fuel. The ship didn't run on rocket fuel. The ship's energy solely relied on what functioned beyond the large Plexiglas pane above the control panels. That special room was almost as tall and wide as the ship itself. The rooms, the balconies, and common areas were built around this special area: the core.
The core itself was twenty stories tall. Tubes made of plastic and thick as sewer channels were placed here. Mooch would compare the sight to a person's large intestine, how the tubes piled one-on-top of other. The fluid inside the so-called "intestinal track engine" was a bright pink substance.
Dr. Fleming had invented a super fluid that acted as fuel, coolant, and a source of energy to propel the Redeemer to Second Earth. Fleming himself dubbed the fuel "Hydrolyne". The actual contents of the substance were unknown to anyone besides the good doctor, and those at the very top of Globo Corps' corporate ladder. To watch the pink move through the clear plastic was really like looking at a giant's large intestine. The middle of the ship truly served as the "guts" of the vessel.
Dr. Fleming claimed as long as the "Hydrolyne" was immersed in water, the fluid would remain in perpetual motion. This motion propelled the engines cleanly and safely.
Mooch considered the ship's energy source a bunch of egghead nonsense. He had one concern on his mind during his time in the power supply room, and he voiced it.
"You think what those idiots at Globo Corps sucked up out of the ocean along with that water could cause a problem?"
Joslin shook her know-it-all head. "Mooch, you worry too much. The filters will chop up any debris. All problems have been anticipated. We got this."
Mooch accessed an internal camera inside the plastic tube near the middle of the guts. Through the video feed, they viewed the fast flowing pink water.
Joslin huffed. "Wow, it's pink stuff. Big deal. Why are we wasting time on this?"
Mooch pointed at the screen. "There! You see it?"
"Yeah, so what?"
"That was a hammerhead shark. It's alive. After being in there for nearly three weeks. How can that be?"
Joslin laughed. "It's not getting out. So what? Who cares?"
"How come the filters haven't destroyed it?"
"Somehow it bypassed the filters. They're not getting out, the ship's on course, the engine's are running correctly, the pressure gauges indicate nothing to be concerned about, so why are you worrying?"
"Three weeks swimming in that pink stuff, you'd think a shark would be dead by now."
Joslin patted Moose on the shoulder. "Yeah, I think sharks can live awhile without eating. But three weeks sure is a long time to go without a meal. I bet they're hungry. And probably pissed off."
Mooch agreed with the last statement. "I've seen about a hundred sharks swim in the guts of the ship. Amazing how they've survived this long. I still think—"
"Stop worrying. They won't escape. Take my word for it. Nothing can go wrong as long as we're at the helm. Right?"
Mooch swallowed hard. "Yeah. Sure. Nothing can go wrong."
Gaby Reigns
Gaby Reigns had been escorted to a private room by one of the many guards on The Redeemer. The room matched that of a fine hotel. Nice carpeting, hot tub, big screen TV, mini bar, and all the accoutrements of high end comfort. Gaby stood in the bathroom and washed her face, guzzled the water she cupped in her hands from under the faucet, and did her best to gain back her composure.
This moment was right after the man named Ram Rogan was tasered and clubbed into unconsciousness. Ernie Pine reassured her Ram needed to be handled in a special way, because he wasn't invited to be on the ship, no matter what the circumstances.
Gaby hated Ernie Pine. Slime ball snake. He could slither up inside you, mess with your mind, and control you. That's what Ernie Pine did to her father.
She knew Ernie Pine all too well. The bald grease ball met with her father, General Reigns, to discuss important things over high end scotch, higher end cigars, and big business. Government stuff, her father would say. Classified information. Need to know basis. Shut your ears, my sweet daughter, type stuff.
Bitterness swelled in her core and flowed out of her eyes in the form of bitter hot tears. Gaby knew little of what her father did in the military. General Reigns worked in Iraq. He trained troops. He dealt with terrorist threats. He met with the president many times to discuss war strategies. Her father was on his way up the military food chain. How high did her father go, Gaby often wondered. And now that the world had ended, Gaby had found out something horrible about her father.
This information came to her mere hours ago, when everything started burning on Earth. Before her father could wrap her mother up in that silver blanket and wait for rescue, a window shattered, and she was bathed in fire. Cooked instantly, and thoroughly.
Her mother had confessed one thing to Gaby before that happened.
"...You can't trust your father anymore. He knew this was going to happen. The fire. The burning. Everybody being in danger. Him and Ernie Pine could've saved many more people. They chose not to. They want to be at the top. They want to rule the new world. They're evil. Your father plans to kill me when we get on the new planet, so he can have all the women he wants. He only loves you, Gaby. Get on that planet, but don't you ever trust that evil man. Your father is no longer the man you once knew."
Something wasn't right, that much was clear. Then Ernie Pine treating the stranger, Ram Rogan, like he was a criminal, and taking him away to do Gods knows what with him aroused many suspicions within her.
Her father loved her. Gaby knew this for certain. The problem now, what would Ernie Pine do without his partner? What was the ultimate plan once they arrived on Second Earth?
"...be bathed in blood, for the lord seeks vengeance upon those who subvert his word. We are not the chosen. We are not the holy. We have been condemned to die. God has demanded the end of humanity, and so it shall be done, by God's hands, and mine."
Gaby couldn't see the man speaking in whispers. She only felt the cold knife jammed into her back, right between the shoulder blades. Before it pierced through her heart, a hand twisted her neck to the side, and snapped it with incredible force.
She died instantly.
He's Samoan!
"You can't be serious? You've risked everything."
"But I am serious. Use your head. People know Ram Rogan's on board. I shouldn't have greeted him like I did, but I had to confirm he was who he was before we engaged him. It was the only way to handle this situation. I'm sorry. I acted impulsively."
"You jumped the gun, Ernie. Now we have to do this the
hard way."
Ram Rogan guessed he was laying on a bed, or a cot. Whatever it was, the mattress was hard as a rock. The blow to the back of the skull was a low rumble of ache. He decided not to open his eyes, and instead listen to the two men caught up in a heated discussion.
"Gaby confirmed that General Reigns and his wife are both dead. That means it's up to us to really take control of things. That's a big responsibility. We've worked so hard to procure funds to allow Globo Corps' project to come to fruition. I don't want some washed up football hero to fuck it all up."
"How can he change anything? He's one man."
"He's Samoan! So much planning, and for this to happen? It's bad enough a lot of people who were supposed to be on board didn't make it. This catastrophe was unpredictable. We had it down to the month, but not down to the day. This project was supposed to be re-starting society from scratch.
"We'd have sixty-three percent whites, twenty-eight percent blacks, and nine percent other. Ram will throw it all off. He's Samoan. He'll mate with every pair of female legs in the place, and our population plan will be wrecked. I won't stand for it. This is our chance to do things our way. I'm the president of Globo Corps for a reason. I know what our people want, and Ram isn't it. This should be a slam dunk, frankly. We don't have billions of people to keep happy anymore. We've got thousands. They'll be so easy to manipulate."
Who the fuck is this guy? So what if I'm Samoan? At least I'm not an asshole. What kind of a spaceship is this?
"Calm down, sir. Ram Rogan won't mate with anyone. I'll make sure of that. I promise you. But we can't outright kill him. People on board have been asking about Ram. They want to see him. He's a celebrity. They want to know if he's okay. I mean, we clubbed his ass good."
"That shit-for-brains lunk head? Why? He's been out of the spotlight for some time now. So he threw a football at some terrorist's face at a Super Bowl and killed him? Whoopee."
