I noticed the man still lingering on the porch. I stepped out of the bathroom with my pistol hidden under my jacket, nearly running into Luther.
“Whoa! I thought you said make him wait?” Luther snapped down at my jacket, observing the outline of my pistol underneath. I peered around at the man waiting patiently.
“I did.” I grinned. He had been working on his train model all day. That was his passion. He used it to deal with depression. That, and fencing. Nothing like trying to stab people in the face with a sword and coming home to play with toys. Fine by me. Preoccupation seemed to keep his mind in tune.
“Still in combat mode.” He arched an eyebrow at my jacket.
“Well, it’s not a switch,” I replied. He leaned in and kissed me on the forehead softly while gently pressing down the gun barrel pointed at the door.
“You’re not on alert status anymore. You’re with me, you’re safe,” he said. Now I was, but that could change in an instant. I nodded in agreement anyway, noticing my gun hand was shaking under the jacket slightly.
“I know. You’re right,” I whispered. He pierced me with his dark green eyes that matched his flannel shirt. He had thick, black eyebrows and hair. He was a bear of a man, tall and broad, at just over six feet six inches or two meters in height. He reminded me of a supersized version of the classic actor Sean Connery. Older people sometimes made the same comparison in public.
He had a warm, approachable demeanor that could make most anyone feel welcome. Behind that was a sense of explosiveness in his eyes. Most people described him as a nice man, but there was an obvious line not to be crossed. His eyes would sometimes drift to some faraway place you didn’t want him to go. After I introduced him to my girlfriends, the consensus was clear. “Great guy, very handsome, but I wouldn’t want to piss him off.” That was followed up by a few chuckles.
Over the years, I began to think my daring personality brought us together, in part at least. It was like sleeping on the outskirts of a dormant, rumbling volcano. He probably wouldn’t erupt, but the possibility was subconsciously thrilling. That was my theory.
The man began to knock loudly. He wasn’t giving up.
Luther glanced down at the floor and sneered. “Determined bastard, huh?” He turned and stepped toward the door. Instinctively, I raised the gun concealed underneath my jacket toward the man.
I wondered if I was forced to fire, would the laser penetrate through the man’s body and hit the neighbor’s new solar powered vehicle across the street? The alarm had woken me twice already. Why not kill two birds with one scorching energy beam?
“Can I help you?” Luther asked, cracking the door slightly. The man sized up Luther’s intimidating frame.
“Um, sorry to be so insistent with everything going on, sir. My name is Martin Orel, with SpaceX. I spoke to your wife, Captain Belic on the phone last week. We scheduled an appointment for today.” The man flashed a full smile.
Luther nodded and glanced back at me, raising his eyebrows. I immediately dipped the gun down and signaled Luther to let him in. All at once, images of burning bodies flashed in my mind. I felt nauseous as I propped against the wall, attempting to shake it off.
“Ugh,” I mumbled. I’d never experienced a flashback. It was quick, less than a second, but intense and disturbing. It transported me to the infrared camera of Commander Rotus’ targeting screen as he scanned over a patch of human remains.
“I’m Luther Belic, sorry about the dog,” he said. Luther extended his hand as I wobbled forward a step before regaining my composure.
“Oh, no problem.” He chuckled, shaking hands with Luther.
“Ah. Mr. Orel. I had forgotten that was today,” I recalled. I put my jacket down on the counter, turning the exposed gun barrel away from him.
“You all right?” Luther whispered, narrowing his eyes at me.
“Sure. Yep, it’s just a headache I think.” I touched my forehead. I could see in his eyes he was slightly suspicious of my response. Granted, I was terrible at lying to him.
“Please. Have a seat.” Luther nodded, ushering him to the kitchen table a few steps away.
“Thank you. Thank you.” Mr. Orel adjusted his tie as he sat down.
“Anything to drink, tea or water?” I asked. Luther glanced over at me rolling his eyes. I smirked. I always told Luther that if you ever suspected an android, ask them for a drink. It was known they could only consume specific solutions. Normal beverages were toxic to their system.
“I’ll have a water, room temperature. Do you have a premium filtration system by chance?” he asked. Luckily, our refrigerator came equipped with the latest purification standards set in 2076. The system cost half as much as the fridge.
“We do,” I said.
“Thank you.” The man’s face began to morph from jubilant to seriousness as he skimmed over his tablet.
“I know the two of you don’t have time for a big sales pitch, so let me get right to it,” he said. He met us both in the eyes, putting his tablet down.
“This is for the secretive piloting gig when I get out of the Navy, right?” I asked.
“Yes. It is. We had a look over at your service record and we think you’d be an excellent fit. You’ve adapted quickly to various crafts and showed outstanding leadership skills,” he explained.
“Thanks. I remember our conversation a bit better now. Why couldn’t you tell me what type of aircraft I’d be flying over the phone?” I asked.
“Because you wouldn’t know what it is,” he said. He pushed his chair back and crossed his legs.
“I’m pretty sure I would.” I glanced at Luther.
“Not this one. It’s specially designed for colonization.” He tilted his head down and whispered.
“Mars? They’ve already tried that. Not interested,” I replied.
“That was a disaster, I admit, but that was decades ago. Technology has improved drastically. We have a ship called the Orion,” he explained.
“I don’t think technology was the only problem,” I said. Many of the issues with colonizing Mars were human related, physiological and psychological issues dealing with space travel and cramped quarters.
“No, but the Orion is more like a floating city versus those sardine cans. We’ve been flying the ship to our moon and back, even had them up there for five months recently. They’ve performed flawlessly,” he replied.
“Great. So why not put one of those pilots at the helm?” I asked. I thought it was odd they were so insistent to recruit a fighter pilot. Maybe it was my personality? Perhaps they needed someone with a touch of crazy.
“We might down the line, we’ll have copilots and engineers, but in your case, we’re looking for a captain. A leader with operational experience to oversee a ship. As I said, we’ve been watching you for many months. You showcased leadership abilities as an executive officer on a frigate and, of course, you’re a top tier pilot,” he said.
The truth was, I hated that assignment on the Navy frigate. It was cramped and boring, staring at the ocean for months. The leadership experience was a plus and it allowed me to make rank faster, but I couldn’t stop thinking about getting back to the skies.
I glanced at the floor for a moment. “Where’s the mission?” I asked.
“Titan,” he replied.
“Saturn’s moon?” Luther spoke up. His eyes sparkled as he leaned forward in his chair. Besides fencing and train models, astronomy was also a passion of his.
“Yes. We’re leaving in nine months. It’s all secret stuff, but we’ve narrowed our candidates down to you and another, an Air Force pilot,” he said.
“That lines up with my Naval decommission perfectly. How long is the training? How much time do we have to decide?” I asked out of curiosity.
“Twelve weeks indoctrination on the crew and procedures, and another eight weeks training on the spacecraft itself. You have one month to decide,” he explained.
“Okay. I’m paid during training exercises?” I
asked. This was important. I wasn't going out for weeks without serious compensation.
“Of course, two times your pay as a captain while in training, but during the voyage, you’re looking at near four times that number and a bonus after completion, along with more career opportunities,” he said. I shifted my eyes toward Luther as he stared dead ahead at Orel, biting his lip.
“Ahem. Well. How much is the bonus?” I perked up.
“Twenty-five percent of your total earnings. So, if the voyage ends up longer, it benefits your wallet even more, of course.” Orel twirled his index finger.
“Ah, that’s not bad at all,” I muttered. Luther slumped his head. He began rubbing his hands together. His eyes danced around the room. I could somehow feel his sweaty palms even though I wasn’t touching them.
He sighed. I imagined his anxiety looming over him like a black cloud. He was afraid of losing me to another deployment. I hadn’t been home long. Now I was entertaining another option to leave. I instantly felt guilty. I allowed this meeting to take place, and he didn’t deserve it.
“Babe.” I touched his arm. He shifted his eyes over at me like a beaten dog. “Luther, I’m just hearing it out.” I comforted him.
He nodded his head slowly. “Okay.”
Luther’s depression and anxiety was rooted in severe abuse when he was a child. He was raised by a single mother that was mentally ill and physically battered him. I’d heard the obvious question before. Why would anyone want a man like that? He was damaged goods, no? Not to me. It was risky, but incredibly rewarding to be loved by him. There was a certain gratitude stemming from him that others might not understand due to the circumstances.
The absence of love in his adolescence created a yearning appreciation for me. He coveted our relationship. He respected me. Remember the volcano example I made? Deep down, maybe I felt he wouldn’t erupt for this reason, even though the possibility was strangely exciting—I was everything to him.
I felt like an anchor, a safe haven, a remedy to an incurable condition. More than anything, I admired that he was a fighter. He could have easily been a statistic of mental health, locked away in some facility or worse. I adored his dedication, fierce loyalty, and kind heart toward me. These were qualities that easily eclipsed the negatives. There were also bonuses, yes. He was incredibly handsome and made the best omelets I’d ever tasted.
So, no, I wouldn’t label it as a normal relationship by any means. Then again, how many couples were like us? I flew fighter jets armed with concrete cooking lasers. He took care of the household duties and built train models.
“How long is the trip?” Luther hesitated. He closed his eyes at the end of his question.
“Six months, give or take,” Orel said.
“One way?” Luther opened his eyes.
“Um. Yes. That’s one way, Mr. Belic,” Orel replied.
“So, she’ll be gone over a year? Nope. No. I-I can’t. Not again.” He shot up out of his seat. Orel gulped as Luther walked over to the window, staring out into the orange tinted landscape. He clenched his fist, bracing his thick oak-like forearms against the window frame. I got the sense he wanted to smash his hand through the glass.
During these moments, I could almost feel him rodeoing his rage, dangerously close to falling off, but he never did, not in front of me anyway. I liked to think my presence alone kept him from boiling over.
“Hunny,” I softened my tone. He didn’t reply, closing his eyes.
“Oh-oh. I forgot to mention. We’ve also reserved one slot for a guest of your choice. Everything included, food, board, medical staff, everything.” Orel held up his index finger.
“We’ll talk it over,” I said. I stood up to send Orel the message that it was time to leave.
“Okay. Mrs. Belic. I know I haven’t said much, but it appears I’ve said enough for the evening.” He nodded respectfully.
“Thank you,” I whispered as Orel stood up and scooted his chair under the table.
“Very well. Take this data core. It has light specifications of the ship, voyage details, and incentives for you and your husband. Before you can open the file, you’ll be prompted to sign a non-disclosure agreement. I’ll give you a call in a couple of weeks, but my contact info is inside the data core. Thank you, and forgive me, I didn’t mean to cause any unneeded tension,” he said, slumping his head.
“Mr. Belic,” Orel said. Luther didn’t respond, staring a hole though him as I walked him to the door. Orel gave me a half salute. “I’ll be in touch, Captain,” he said. I closed the door slowly. I turned back toward Luther, noticing him following Orel to his car with his eyes. I slowly outstretched my hand as I neared him, laying it atop his thick, round shoulder.
“That’s a long time,” he said.
“Yes. But the pay. We could retire in half the time. I don’t know, sell this house, buy something cheaper and just enjoy life. I wouldn’t need a part-time job when I get out of the Navy,” I explained. Truth be told, we didn’t need a three thousand square-foot house in an upscale neighborhood anyway. It was just the two of us.
“The point of you getting out of the Navy is no more deployments.” He glared at me.
“I know. This is just, an option. It would definitely be the last deployment,” I said. He nodded slowly without a word for several seconds.
“Well, if we go to Titan—”
“We? You’re considering that?” I interrupted, placing my hands on my hips.
“Hypothetically.” He shrugged.
“Go on.”
“The way I see it, if we do this, I’m not staying here. Not again. And I’ve always wanted to see Saturn up close anyway,” he said.
This was unexpected.
“Wouldn’t the trip make your anxiety worse?” I asked.
“It’d be worse here, alone, waiting to hear from you,” he replied. All at once, I felt even worse for leaving on my previous deployments.
“This is putting you in a bad position,” I said. His eyes panned around the yard in deep thought for several seconds. I allowed him time to answer.
“I hate it, I really do, Vic, but it’s a great opportunity for us. I can support you on this trip unlike military deployments. We’ll see each other daily. Right?” he asked.
I wasn’t convinced. “Yeah, that’s the good part. And I appreciate what you’re saying but, Luther, being cramped on a ship for months. I’ve been there. You can’t turn back, you’re stuck. There’s no going back home until they’re ready.”
“What’s the difference in being here? I barely leave this house when you’re on deployments anyway. This feels like I can actually contribute and see things most only dream of.” He turned and put his arms around my waist. I hugged him around the neck. At least out there, in space, he’d be with me. Maybe it would help both of us.
“Now that you put it that way.” I stared up at him. I noticed his thick, but well-manicured dark brown beard. It always seemed to edge down his cheekbones perfectly. In the kitchen light, I observed gray hairs sprinkled throughout. I wondered how many of those were due to worrying about me screaming through the clouds at Mach speeds.
“Look.” I showed Luther the fingernail sized data core Orel gave me. I was curious about the voyage and ship.
“Let’s check it out before bed, just for a minute.” He grinned.
“Okay.” We sat back down at the table. I could sense his excitement as he began to fidget around. I noticed him rubbing a bread twisty tie rapidly between his fingers.
“You all right?” I asked.
“Yeah, yeah.”
He reminded me of a little boy as his eyes sparkled with anticipation. I imagined much of his inner child, his innocence was sealed away in a lockbox that only opened occasionally for me to see inside. He shared with me that his mother wasn’t fond of happiness, often punishing him for such behavior. It meant the world to me that I could share in his excitement at no consequence for him.
I smiled at him as I inserted the data
core into my tablet, skimming through the small print. I signed the non-disclosure form as a 3D refrigerator sized hologram appeared of the Orion spacecraft.
“Whoa,” I said.
“That thing looks massive.” Luther examined with his eyes wide, leaning over my shoulder. It wasn’t very pleasing to look at. It reminded of a giant rectangle with thrusters.
“How many passengers?” he asked.
“Um, let’s see, specifications.” I scrolled through my tablet’s interface that was linked to my pupils.
LENGTH: 590 METERS
CREW CAPACITY: 5700
“Capacity. Maybe that means they’ll be less?” he asked.
“Doubtful. Seems to me it was designed for this mission, I’m guessing they’ll fill it up,” I said, preparing his social anxiety for the worst. Less people was always better for him.
“Yeah, engineers, construction workers for when they arrive on Titan. They will need a base of operations,” Luther replied.
“He did say colonization. So that alone sounds like they’re starting over, for good,” I said.
“It won’t be easy. I’m not sure how familiar you are with Titan, but the environment is pretty hostile,” Luther hinted.
“Earth’s isn’t? We’ve broken record heat temperatures every year for the last fifty. On top of that, seventy nations possess nuclear weapons, then we have the androids, between that, water shortages, and pollution indexes, seems pretty hostile here, too,” I posed.
“You sound like you’re considering this more than a job.” He shifted his eyes toward me.
“Didn’t say that, but I can see where some people might just want to get away from it all. Start over, especially without the androids,” I said. Luther seemed to lose himself in thought for a moment. He leaned forward, putting his elbows on the table and interlocking his fingers.
“Now that you put it in perspective. I’m thinking a world with less people might just be a world I’d want to live in. Maybe. I could find a job? Something I can do alone like the way I work with my trains? Something that keeps me busy and I can actually contribute,” he said, dipping his head low. I felt like he was embarrassed to associate his past time with a real job.
The Legion and the Lioness Page 2
