by Ryk Brown
Hanna looked at her friend. It had been a long time since she had seen her so excited about something. They had spent so much time covering fluff to pay the bills, and now everything they wanted was being handed to them. They would get to cover the end of the world. The only question was, would they survive the assignment? “What about Sahmeed?”
“I already talked with him,” Arielle replied. “He doesn’t like it, but he understands why I want to do it.”
“Half of all the people on Earth are dead,” Graham said. “Sooner or later, this plague will die out. For those who survive, it’s going to be a very tough life. If I die documenting what’s really going on, so that future generations know the truth, I’m okay with that.”
“Yeah, but you’re old,” Hanna pointed out.
Graham laughed. “Yes, yes I am.”
“Our own production shuttle?” Hanna asked Arielle.
“Complete with techs and a flight crew,” Arielle replied. “And both field and base support teams. Everything we want.”
“That’s pretty cool,” Hanna admitted. “And we get to pick our own stories?”
“For the most part, yes. That’s what Brent promised.”
“And you believe him?”
“Of course not,” Graham insisted. “But does that matter?”
“What’s in it for him?” Hanna wondered. “I mean, it’s not like he’s got much competition left. And I’m pretty sure this is all just costing him money and not making him anything. So why?”
“Maybe he just wants to do the right thing?” Arielle suggested. “It wouldn’t be too surprising, considering the situation.”
“Again, who cares?” Graham repeated. “He gives us what we need, we go out and get the stories, and he airs them. Simple as that.”
“Everything’s simple to you,” Hanna dismissed.
“That’s cuz I’m old,” he replied, smiling.
She looked at Arielle again. “You really want to do this, don’t you?”
“Yes, I do,” Arielle replied.
Hanna took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “Honestly, I’d be fine staying right here, where it’s relatively safe, but you’ve been taking care of me for so long, I suppose it’s time I took care of you.” Hanna smiled. “When do we start?”
A big grin came across Arielle’s face. “We leave tomorrow morning. Brent is getting our teams together now.”
“Even though he didn’t know I’d take the job?” Hanna asked.
“Oh, he knew,” Graham laughed. “We all did.”
* * *
Hanna followed Graham and Arielle down the corridor toward the landing pad atop the NCN World building. She and everyone else had been cooped up inside for the last week, not wanting to take any chances after Constance had become ill and passed away only a day later.
Although Hanna was looking forward to finally breathing fresh air, she was also feeling a bit apprehensive. The world was falling apart around them. Infrastructure was failing, public safety services were strained to the point of breaking, and the military—or what was left of them—had taken to patrolling the streets, shooting looters on site. Even without the fear of contracting the Klaria virus, the world had become an extremely dangerous place. The NCN building, with its security systems and its independent utilities plant, was like a city unto itself, safe and secure from the mayhem that had seemingly engulfed the Earth. Yet Hanna and her colleagues were about to step through the doors into the chaos.
Hanna had to keep reminding herself that she was not stepping directly into the chaos. She was stepping onto a landing pad fifteen hundred meters above it.
Baby steps, she thought. If she tried hard enough, the others would never notice how scared she really was. She glanced at Arielle as they approached the doors. She was smiling, full of excitement and anticipation. Graham looked angry, but that was his natural state.
Arielle was the first one through the door, followed by Graham and Hanna. Much to her surprise, the door that she remembered opening to the landing pad now opened to an additional room. “What’s this?”
“Decon,” Graham replied. “There’s one here and on the first floor; the only two ways into the building now.”
“So, we have to go through decontamination when we return?” Hanna wondered.
“Yup,” Graham replied as they continued through the decon room. He pushed the outer door open and stepped into the morning light, pausing to put on his sunglasses. “Ah, sunlight,” he announced with a grin. “No matter how fucked up things get down here, that big ball of gas just keeps on burning.”
“Look who’s mister positive,” Arielle remarked as she pushed past him toward the waiting shuttle. “Look at this!” she exclaimed as she ascended the steps onto the landing pad.
Before them was a state-of-the-art production shuttle, with a production bay, a satellite uplink, equipment storage compartments, a twelve-seat passenger bay, and a bathroom.
“Welcome, Miss Dugah, Miss Bohl,” the pilot greeted as they approached. “I’m Jeffen, your pilot and systems engineer. Welcome to NCN Two One Seven.”
“A pleasure to meet you, Jeffen,” Arielle replied.
“Your staff is waiting inside, and we can depart as soon as you’re ready.”
“Fantastic,” she replied. “What’s our flight time to Seattle?”
“Just under two hours,” he replied.
“Jeffen!” Graham bellowed from behind them.
“Graham,” the pilot replied, obviously recognizing him.
“How long has it been? Five years?”
“More like ten,” Jeffen corrected, shaking Graham’s hand. “I heard you were back.”
“Yeah, a shocker to me, too. Shit happens, you know.”
“When you’re around, yes, it does,” Jeffen replied, gesturing for Graham to board along with the others.
“Hey, gang!” Graham barked as he boarded. “We lucked out with our pilot. Jeffen’s the best!”
Jeffen shook his head as he turned to follow Graham into the shuttle.
Graham moved past Hanna, Arielle, and the two production assistants who were already seated, heading to the back to stow his gear. “Not bad, huh?” he said in passing.
As soon as he was out of earshot, one of the production assistants leaned forward. “Has he been with you long?”
“A few weeks,” Arielle replied. “I’m Arielle Dugah. Are you two the only production assistants coming along?”
“We’re the only ones they could find on short notice who were willing to go. I’m Bryon, and this is Dinka,” he said, gesturing to the woman sitting across from him. “You must be Hanna?”
“Yes,” Hanna replied. “A pleasure.”
“What was it like?” Dinka asked.
“What was what like?” Hanna replied.
“He was in your head. The texts. It must have been terrifying.”
“To say the least,” Hanna assured her.
“I guess we should discuss the story,” Arielle suggested as the shuttle’s engines began to spin up. She could tell that Hanna didn’t really want to talk about the text messages she had exchanged with Unknown. Hanna had said very little about them to Arielle.
“I’ve already made arrangements to speak with one of Stellar Express’s public relations people, to start with,” Bryon said. “They seemed eager to share information with us.”
“They want free publicity,” Hanna insisted.
“Which we can make work for us,” Arielle added.
“How?” Bryon wondered.
“You’re new at this, aren’t you,” Arielle surmised.
“Actually, it’s my first time in the field,” Bryon admitted. “I was doing research up until a couple weeks ago.”
“Me, too,” Dinka added.
“That’s okay,” Arielle assured them both. “This may be our first time in a production shuttle, but Hanna and I have been at this for a while. And Graham back there… Well, he’s been at it since before any of us were born.”
“Seriously?” Bryon asked, turning to look toward the production bay at the back of the shuttle.
“Seriously,” Arielle replied. “I know he’s a bit gruff, but he knows his stuff. And from what I understand, he’s pretty much seen it all, which is exactly what you want in a videographer. Nothing will shock him.”
“So, he grows on you, then?” Dinka surmised.
“Something like that,” Hanna replied as the shuttle’s engines came to power, and the ship began to ascend. She turned to look out the window as the shuttle climbed into the air and away from the building. The streets below looked barren compared to what they would have been a few weeks ago. Garbage littered the streets, blown about by passing vehicles. The city, like so many others around the globe, had been bustling with activity. Their streets packed with vehicles, their sidewalks covered with pedestrians, and their transit systems always on the move.
Countless trails of smoke marred the horizon, the worst from the various mass cremation pits, where bodies of those taken by Klaria were burned. Despite the winds blowing in from the river, the air remained stained by the smoke from those fires, and Hanna felt like it would forever be that way.
She was just glad they did not have to breathe that smoke… Not yet.
* * *
Hanna, Arielle, and Graham were led into a large conference room at the Earth-side offices of Stellar Express.
“Please deploy your cameras according to the instructions included in the pre-interview briefing sheet,” the company escort said as he stepped aside to allow them into the room. “Miss Patane will be with you momentarily.”
“Thank you,” Hanna replied as the escort departed, closing the door behind him. “Not exactly a chatty bunch, are they?” Hanna commented as she set her bag down.
“They’ve been told to be that way,” Graham explained as he opened up his case to prepare his recording gear. “Every word they do speak is scripted by management. Standard corporate practice. The bigger the company, the better they are at it, and they don’t get much bigger than Stellar Express.”
“You looked at the approved questions list?” Arielle asked Hanna.
“Yeah, I glanced at it.”
“Did you read it?”
“Sort of.”
“You need to read it, Hanna,” Arielle insisted. “You need to ask the questions exactly as they are written.”
Hanna looked at Arielle. “How are we supposed to get to all the little hidden truths if I follow a script written by the interviewee?”
“If you don’t, they’ll shut us down and boot us out, and you’ll get nothing at all,” Graham warned as he scanned the room for light and dimensions.
“Graham’s right,” Arielle agreed. “This is just the start, Hanna. Play nice now, and they’ll let us get more footage in other areas of the corporation. Not everyone will be as well trained as the PR people. One of them might let something slip.”
“Or they might not,” Hanna argued.
“They definitely won’t let anything slip if you never get to speak to them,” Graham pointed out as he transferred the room data from his scanner to his orb control pad. “Knowing when and where to dig is more important than the digging itself.”
Hanna looked at Graham, a quizzical look on her face. “You’re making it hard to not like you.”
“Would it help if I said you look like shit?”
“What?”
Graham smiled as he hung his control console around his neck and secured it at his waist.
“You look fine,” Arielle assured Hanna. “And you are not helping,” she scolded Graham. Arielle turned back to Hanna. “Just stick to the script for now. We’ll examine the footage and look for clues as to where to dig later. Everyone has tells, even professional PR people.” Arielle turned to Graham again. “Are you ready?”
Graham touched a button on his control console, and eight video orbs rose from the open docking case, floating up and spreading out to their assigned deployment positions. Graham smiled. “Cams are up and rolling.”
The door opened again, and a woman in her late thirties, in typical business attire, entered the room, followed by two assistants and an older gentleman who looked far less comfortable in similar attire.
“Good morning,” the woman greeted, extending her hand. “I’m Nicolette Patane, and this is Simon Morra, head of reserve fleet maintenance.”
“A pleasure,” Hanna replied, shaking first Miss Patane’s hand, and then Mister Morra’s. “I wasn’t aware that there would be two persons in this interview,” Hanna replied, keeping her tone as polite as possible.
“I know there has been some speculation about the safety of using our reserve fleet, especially for carrying passengers over such long distances. As the director of maintenance for the reserve fleet, no one would be more qualified to answer any questions you might have along those lines than Mister Morra.”
“I’m sure you’re right,” Hanna agreed. “But I didn’t see any such questions on the list your people provided.”
“The decision was made by our CEO, Mister Cassan, after a discussion with your boss, Brent Tollison, only minutes ago. I’m afraid there was no time to prepare additional questions. Surely you can wing it?”
“Oh, she’s good,” Graham whispered to Arielle.
“Actually, I sent the list of questions to Brent as soon as we got them,” Arielle whispered back.
Graham looked at her, impressed. “Nice.”
“I’m sure I can think of a few,” Hanna assured Miss Patane.
“I would appreciate it if you used at least some of the prepared questions, however.”
“Of course,” Hanna agreed. “Shall we get started?”
“Are your people ready?” Miss Patane asked, looking at Arielle and Graham, who gave her a thumbs-up. “Very well.”
Miss Patane moved to one of two chairs in front of a large view screen, taking a seat nearest the facing chair in which Hanna would be seated.
Hanna moved to her seat, as did Mister Morra. Once they were all seated, Hanna looked to Graham, who nodded. She took a deep breath, and began. “I’m Hanna Bohl, and I’m at the corporate offices of Stellar Express, who have recently announced their intent to use their reserve fleet to assist those who wish to escape the Klaria virus by settling on unsurveyed, human-inhabitable worlds. With me is Nicolette Patane, head of public relations for Stellar Express, and Simon Morra, head of maintenance for the company’s reserve fleet.” Hanna turned away from the floating vid-orb two meters to the left of Mister Morra, which she knew to be her designated commentary camera. “Miss Patane, Mister Morra, I’d like to thank you both for meeting with me.”
“It is our pleasure,” Miss Patane replied.
“As you might expect, the general public has raised many questions since yesterday’s announcement.”
“As they should,” Miss Patane agreed.
“The first, and most obvious, question would be…why?” Hanna asked. “Why this? Why now?”
“Using our ships to transport colonists is not new for Stellar Express,” Miss Patane began. “As you probably know, our ships have been used for several initial colonizations of both core and fringe worlds, as well as providing continued support during the settling of those worlds.”
“Yes, but those ships were contracted and paid for by the governments, or private interests, seeking to colonize those worlds,” Hanna corrected. “What you’re proposing now is entirely different. You are asking individuals to pay the costs, not governments or private interests. And
these people must sell off everything they own in order to afford passage. While your announcement was framed as an altruistic act, many suspect it is an attempt to profit from what is undoubtedly the worst catastrophe to hit mankind since the great world wars of the twentieth and twenty-first centuries. Stellar Express has the ships, and has the fuel and crews to run them. Why charge at all?”
“Actually, there are several reasons,” Miss Patane began. “The most important of which is that the economies of the human-inhabited worlds of the Sol sector rely on Stellar Express to move goods between worlds on a regular basis. Doing so is expensive, and if we use up our propellant reserves in this endeavor, we would jeopardize our ability to meet the needs of the Earth and all the worlds of the Sol sector.”
“So, you’re saying there is no profit involved?”
“In the immediate future, no, there is not. In fact, Stellar Express will be losing trillions in assets by letting go of our reserve fleet in this way.”
“Then why do so?”
“Because it needs to be done,” Miss Patane replied without missing a beat. “The Earth has lost half its population, and we have already learned that the Klaria virus has appeared on Mars and on Kent in the Alpha Centauri B system. The Earth’s industrial capacity is already strained to the point of failure. By moving people off-world, we are decreasing the demand on the Earth’s infrastructure.”
“So, your ships will not be returning?”
“No, they will not. To have them return would require additional propellant, reducing their outbound carrying capacity. Besides, by the time they returned, they would no longer be usable.”
“Many say they are not usable now,” Hanna stated, taking advantage of their host’s offer for her to wing it.
“Twenty-five percent of our reserve fleet is kept in ready-state,” Mister Morra replied, joining into the discussion for the first time.
“Ready-state?” Hanna wondered.
“That is to say, they are ready for immediate deployment. All that is required are a crew and propellant.”
