Solomon's Arrow

by J. Dalton Jennings

  Great, this is all I need! Mona thought. As Kowalski approached, her eyes flicked nervously toward the door, expecting the young med-tech to exit at any second.

  Kowalski stopped in front of her. “Hey, Doc, I’ve got a flux regulator that’s giving me a low reading. If you’ve got a minute I’d like to pick—”

  Solomon’s door slid open. “It’ll have to wait, Kowalski,” she said, holding up her hand.

  “But—”

  Mona virtually leapt in front of the door. The med-tech was just starting to speak. “Computer, start Dr. Chavez’s—”

  “Belay that order, Ms. Hiroshige,” Mona snapped.

  The young woman was both surprised and confused. She stood in the doorway looking from Mona to the equally confused Kowalski. “I don’t understand. Can’t this wait until after I issue Dr. Chavez’s order?”

  Mona reached into the breast pocket of her shirt and removed a folded envelope. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “I have a letter that I want Dr. Chavez to find when he wakes up.”

  Ms. Hiroshige’s eyes narrowed. “Give it to me; I’ll place it on the table by his bed.”

  “I … I’d rather do it myself, please,” Mona said, thinking furiously as she added a slight whine to her voice. “I’m, well, I’m not proud to admit this, Ms. Hiroshige, but, I … I’ve been in love with Dr. Chavez for years, and … I wrote this letter admitting my feelings. I realize he won’t read it until long after I’m dead and gone, but … I wanted him to know how I feel. I couldn’t bear going to my grave without him finally understanding … that I, um, that I thought of him as more than just a colleague.”

  Ms. Hiroshige’s expression began to soften. She’d been perturbed when Mona thwarted her plan to bed Solomon Chavez, but now she knew why—or so she thought. “Very well, I’ll wait here while you leave your … love letter.”

  Mona placed her hand on the other woman’s wrist. “Thank you, dear, but could you wait outside the door? I … I have a few words I want to say, in private. I hope you understand.”

  The young woman once again looked perturbed. Glancing back at Kowalski, she rolled her eyes. “Don’t take too long, Dr. Levin.”

  “Thank you for understanding,” Mona said as she walked by the med-tech into the room.

  Hearing the door slide shut behind her, Mona slipped the empty envelope in her back pocket and pulled out her PID. Her hands were shaking as she tapped the screen. She hadn’t lied about wanting to have a private word—it just wasn’t with Solomon Chavez. “Judah, patch into the Arrow’s computer using my backdoor override software.”

  She waited for her PID to answer, the silence feeling like an oppressive shroud hanging over the room. After nearly five interminable seconds, her PID responded to her order, “It is done, Dr. Levin, and awaiting your command.”

  “Solomon Chavez has a lockdown function in his stateroom that will go into effect as soon as I leave the room. I want that program modified so I can return and reenter his stateroom.”

  There was a shorter pause. “I cannot modify the program in that manner, Dr. Levin.”

  Mona’s stomach lurched. Everything was falling apart. She had to think of something. If she stayed in the room much longer, Hiroshige would become apprehensive and check on her. Then Judah’s words struck her: Solomon’s lockdown program couldn’t be modified in that manner.

  “Judah, is there a manner in which the lockdown function can be modified?”

  “Yes, Dr. Levin.”

  “State the number of ways it can be modified, Judah.”

  “The lockdown function can be modified one way, Dr. Levin.”

  “State the manner in which it can be modified, Judah.”

  “The time function can be modified, Dr. Levin.”

  Mona’s eyes grew wide with happiness. Gotcha! “Thank you, Judah. Modify the lockdown program to initiate a ten minute delay before it goes into effect.”

  Judah responded immediately. “The program has been modified, Dr. Levin.”

  Breathing a heavy sigh of relief, Mona slipped her PID into her back pocket and approached the stateroom door. As it opened, Ms. Hiroshige was standing outside blocking her path. Being a few inches shorter than Mona, the young woman tried to look over her shoulder to see past her into the room. “Computer, institute Dr. Solomon Chavez’s lockdown program,” Mona said.

  The nondescript computer voice, which sounded neither male nor female, announced, “As commanded, the lockdown program is now in effect.”

  “Excuse me, dear,” Mona said as she stepped around the sullen med-tech. The door closed behind her. “Now, Kowalski … you were saying?”

  •

  Inside the turbo-lift, Mona tried to listen as Kowalski rambled on about the unusual regulator readings, but her thoughts were focused on the ticking clock in her head. Having Ms. Hiroshige’s eyes trained on her didn’t help.

  Mona was still nodding when she belatedly noticed that Kowalski had stopped speaking. She opened her mouth thinking to say something vague about engineering, when Ms. Hiroshige asked her a question.

  “So, Dr. Levin, when will you be taking the S. E. back to Earth?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “The space elevator … when will you be taking it down to Lake Victoria?”

  Mona didn’t want to sound too definitive. “I’ll be leaving the orbital platform sometime after the ship’s launch,” she said. “As for the Arrow, I’ll be leaving today, possibly tomorrow. It all depends on whether the ship’s systems are running smoothly or not.”

  The turbo-lift slowed to a stop, its doors opening on the floor containing the ship’s medical facilities. Ms. Hiroshige stepped out. “I’m on temporary assignment here. Perhaps I’ll look you up after the launch. I’m writing my thesis in exobiology and would like to pick your brain on—”

  “I’m sorry, dear, but that’s not my field of expertise.” Mona didn’t like the way the young woman was studying her. “Besides, when I return to Earth I’ll be taking an extended vacation with my mother to the Holy Land. I hear the region’s become a tourist Mecca, so to speak, since the peace accord. Good luck with your thesis, dear.” She smiled warmly as the door slid shut.

  “Computer,” Kowalski said, “take us to engineering.”

  The turbo-lift began to move silently toward the aft section of the ship. Mona felt beads of sweat forming on her upper lip and brow. She was becoming frantic; her time to act was slipping away. How much time do I have left? she wondered. She couldn’t ask Judah, not with Kowalski in the lift. She began to calculate: After walking down the hall to the turbo-lift, they’d been forced to wait a good minute for its arrival, then dropped to the medical wing, where the horny med-tech exited; Mona must have lost at least four minutes. If she traveled to engineering with Kowalski, she’d lose more time—too much time. She wouldn’t make it back to Solomon’s room within the ten-minute time frame.

  “How long before we reach engineering, Kowalski?” she calmly inquired, trying to keep her frayed nerves from revealing themselves in her voice.

  “Around three minutes …”Shit! “… one and a half, at max speed,” he finished.

  Mona had to fight to keep from grinning. “Computer, increase to max speed.”

  The only thing that suggested an increase in velocity was a louder background hum. There were no physical indicators, thanks to the inertial damping system she engineered.

  “You’re awfully eager to get to work on the regulator problem, Doc,” Kowalski said.

  “What … oh yes, um … no, not really … I’m going to life sciences, to check on something after I drop you off.”

  “But what about—”

  “Increase the input capacitor current seven milliamps. That should fix the problem.”

  “And if it doesn’t?”

  “Then study the damn manual, Kowalski,” she snapped. “I’m not here to hold your hand! Use some initiative, man. What’ll you do if there’s an emergency along the way … call home to speak to a
service tech?”

  Mona immediately regretted her choice of words. The chastened look on the man’s face was proof that she should apologize, but she didn’t; Kowalski needed to think for himself, not rely on others to solve his problems. As they rode in silence, Mona convinced herself that she’d just given the assistant engineer a lesson in character building.

  Seconds later, he was stepping from the turbo-lift. “Thanks for the advice, Doc. I’ll increase the current by the amount you suggested.”

  “See that you do.”

  Thank the Lord, she thought, as the lift-door slid shut. I still have three minutes left.

  “Computer, take me back to the crew quarters, max speed.”

  The turbo-lift hummed loudly. Approximately twenty seconds later, the hum decreased then stopped. With Mona’s thoughts racing, she failed to notice the change in sound. The door opened, and three female technicians stepped inside. “I’m sorry, is this, is this the crew quarters?” she stammered.

  “No, Dr. Levin,” answered one. “This is applied sciences. We’re on our way to engineering for a consultation.”

  “You can go there after I reach the crew quarters.”

  The three looked at each other, concern written on their faces.

  “But engineering is so much closer,” said another. “That’ll cause us a lot of backtracking.”

  “I don’t care if it—” Mona clamped her mouth shut. The more she argued the longer it would take. “Fine, we’ll do it your way. Computer, take us back to engineering, max speed.”

  The next twenty seconds were both silent and uncomfortable, with her three lift companions shooting frequent, sidelong glances in her direction. The doors opened and they stepped out. Kowalski was walking by. “Hey, Doc, your suggestion worked.”

  “Great,” she grunted sarcastically as the lift-doors closed in his face. “Computer, take me to the crew quarters, max speed … and by executive order: No stops along the way.” Mona removed her PID from her blouse pocket. “Judah, how much time’s left before Solomon’s stateroom goes into lockdown?”

  “Two minutes, fifty-three seconds, Dr. Levin.”

  Mona felt a modicum of relief hearing those words. It meant she would be inside Solomon’s stateroom before time ran out. She still felt antsy, shifting frequently from one foot to the other. Her stomach rumbled, sounding terribly loud in the khaki-hued enclosure. The trip seemed to last even longer than before.

  “Computer, is the turbo-lift traveling at maximum speed?”

  “Yes, Dr. Levin.”

  Just then, the humming faded and the doors swished open. Relieved to see the hallway empty, Mona darted toward the corridor leading to Solomon’s stateroom. Her eyes suddenly went wide. People were talking. Their voices were getting closer. They were mere yards from rounding the corner. Skidding to a halt, she almost stumbled forward into the corridor. Quickly regaining her balance, Mona spun on her heel and dashed for the opposite corner, hoping beyond hope to avoid detection. She rounded the corner just as three crew members, on their way to chow, entered the short passageway to the turbo-lift.

  Mona stood with her back flat against the wall, holding her breath, scared out of her wits. One of the crewmen pressed the button for the turbo-lift. The doors opened almost immediately, but not before Mona heard steps heading her way.

  “Come on, Henri,” said one of the crewmen. “I’m hungry. I hear Cookie’s made Swedish meatballs. My mouth’s watering just thinking about them.”

  Mona wished the crewman hadn’t mentioned food. She instantly became terrified that her stomach would start to growl.

  The sound of approaching steps stopped. “Fine, but I swear I heard something.”

  “You’re always hearing something.”

  “Am not.”

  “Are too.”

  Mona listened intently, afraid to draw a breath while waiting to see if Henri would enter the turbo-lift.

  “I was right about the—”

  The turbo-lift doors swished shut, interrupting the crewman’s sentence.

  After hearing the turbo-lift door close, Mona pushed off from the wall and sprinted around the corner. “Judah, how much time is left?”

  She was sucking air as she rounded the next corner and ran down the corridor.

  “Twenty seconds, Dr. Levin.”

  “Shit!”

  Skidding to a frenetic halt in front of Solomon’s stateroom, she pressed the button to enter, but nothing happened. “Why isn’t the door opening, Judah?!”

  “You must first enter his personal code.”

  “What is it?” she panted, her voice trembling.

  “Press the name, “Selena,” into the touch pad, Dr. Levin.”

  Selena? She wondered about this odd little twist as her fingers flew over the screen located to the right of the door’s entrance. Why would Solomon use the name Selena? Putting the question aside, she breathlessly pressed the final letter.

  Was she too late? No! She couldn’t be … she just couldn’t be!

  Almost unable to believe her eyes, Mona watched the stateroom door slide open. She didn’t run or dash or sprint inside, she lunged through, yelling, “Computer! Shut the door!”

  She stumbled forward, nearly dropping to her knees. “Judah, how much time’s remaining?”

  “None, Dr. Levin.”“That was close,” she groaned, collapsing into Solomon’s reading chair.

  Mona closed her eyes and let her nerves recuperate. When her trembling finally subsided and her breathing returned to normal, she stood from the chair, crossed the stateroom, and stopped beside Solomon’s cryo-chamber. “Judah, please initiate phase one of the Aurora protocol.”

  “Phase one is now in effect, Dr. Levin.”

  Mona watched Solomon’s cryo-chamber glide effortlessly away from the wall. A secret wall-panel opened up behind it. An identical-looking cryo-chamber slid out from the dark recess in the wall and came to a stop beside its twin. Mona placed both hands on the cryo-chamber and, as she caressed its shiny, maroon surface, sighed with anticipation.

  The only difference between the two cryo-chambers was that the stand underneath contained hidden drawers. Stripping down to her birthday suit, Mona opened one of the drawers and placed her folded clothes inside. She then opened a much smaller drawer and removed a syringe. After injecting its contents into her arm, she replaced the syringe back in the drawer and hurried to the bathroom. Almost as soon as she sat on the toilet she began to urinate. From the stream’s force, Mona felt as if her bladder had just become a fire hydrant. After what seemed to take forever, her body was totally free of excess fluids. She had flushed her intestinal tract earlier that day. After wiping, she stood, washed her hands, and, as the toilet flushed, walked back out to stand beside what would be her home for the next ten years.

  Without any hesitation, she opened the cryo-chamber and climbed inside. Mona then slid her PID into a slot near her hip and leaned back into the foam padding. “Judah,” she croaked, her mouth already feeling like the Mojave. “Please initiate phase two of the Aurora protocol.”

  “Starting phase two … have a good sleep, Dr. Levin.”And with that, her plan was finally underway. Lying perfectly still, Mona stared at nothing in particular as the foam cushion filled with gel. Soft medical cuffs encircled her arms and ankles. She winced at the expected pinpricks; then, as a powerful sedative entered her bloodstream, a warm, pleasant feeling engulfed her.

  Shortly thereafter, the cryo-chamber’s lid closed, the maroon-colored cylinder disappeared into its hidden recess, and Solomon Chavez’s cryo-chamber glided back into position. If anyone were to enter the room at that very moment, they’d never guess that Dr. Mona Levin was there, an unconscious stowaway resting within a secret compartment, having become the six-thousand-one-hundred-seventy-third member of the Ark Project Expedition.

  •

  ORBITAL PLATFORM MEDIA CENTER: 11:37 A.M. GMT, JANUARY 20, 2061

  “Ladies and gentlemen, this is Darren Brantley of The Darren Bran
tley Show, coming to you live from space, along with select journalists from around the globe, to broadcast what will quite possibly be the most momentous day in human history: the long-awaited launching of Mona’s Ark into the vast reaches of interstellar space.”

  The hazel-eyed journalist stood directly in front of a five-foot tall by ten-foot wide, six-inch thick, clear reinforced gorilla-glass window that displayed the area of space where the Arrow would begin its voyage. He and the other members of the media watched as the final shuttle from the Arrow—returning with technical support personnel—approached the orbital platform’s docking station. The Arrow itself was nearly fifty miles away and could not be seen from their vantage point, except for an occasional glint of sunlight reflecting off its light-gray hull. When the time came for launch, however, the window was programmed to magnify the scene, allowing the journalists to witness the launch alongside the rest of the world.

  Like the others, Brantley wore a dark-blue CIMRAD coverall, which had been supplied to the press before they and the other VIPs were allowed to board the space elevator. He’d chaffed at the idea of wearing an outfit with a corporate logo on it but had relented when told that he was more than welcome to cover the event ground-side, along with the other uninvited journalists.

  “In a matter of minutes,” Brantley continued, addressing the camera in his famously smooth, easygoing style, “Lawrence Murchison, the current COO of CIMRAD, will present a prerecorded message from Dr. Solomon Chavez. This message will be followed up by a live HV connection with the ship’s bridge, where Admiral Katherine Axelrod, famously known as “The Battleaxe,” will bid humanity farewell on behalf of her and the rest of those extraordinarily brave souls making this astonishing one-way journey into space.”

  The equally telegenic Lawrence Murchison entered the room.

  “Here’s Mr. Murchison now. I’ll rejoin you after the launch, with an exclusive, hour-long special, interviewing the people who made this launch possible.” Brantley tapped a mode on his Bluetooth transceiver and quickly took his seat in the front row. There were five rows of seats, ten seats per row, each filled with journalists trying to keep their professional cool, though in truth, all were as excited as children going to the circus for the first time.