A Spacetime Tale

by J. Benjamin

  She waited for a response. Nobody spoke. The silence of the room was deafening as they waited with bated breath for a sign of life from the hostile phantom ship. After twenty seconds, which felt like an eternity, a familiar voice spoke.

  “This is Manuel Carter, leader of the Terra Rebirth movement. I am speaking to you from aboard the TR Gaia. We have successfully evaded your watchdogs and orbital sentries and are carrying enough fuel to completely incinerate everyone on both our spacecraft. Our demands are simple. Allow us to dock with the Sagan so that we can negotiate a peaceful ceasefire with the secretary-general. Do this, and no harm will come to your crew. We only want the secretary-general,” he said.

  “Why should we trust a word you say?” Isla asked.

  “It is too late to destroy us. You know the debris from our ship would rip you apart,” Manuel said. “If you do not agree to our demands, we will impact your ship and kill everyone. But, if you comply within the next two minutes, we have enough time to activate retro-burn and prevent an easily-avoided tragedy. What do you say, Madam Secretary-General?”

  Captain Starling stood up, walked over, and whispered into Isla’s ear.

  “Ma’am. His vessel is one minute and thirty seconds from the point of no return. After that, it will be too late to slow down, and the probability of direct impact will skyrocket to one-hundred percent. We need to act now.”

  Isla couldn’t believe it. The first existential-crisis of her tenure as secretary-general, aside from the events of the morning, arrived just hours after being sworn in.

  “Hold please,” Isla said. Admiral Heller put the conversation on mute.

  “Madam Secretary-General, you cannot allow that man and his goons to board this station,” the admiral said.

  “And how do you imagine we will fare against a rainstorm of burning debris?” Cade asked. “We have no other option except to let him dock.”

  “There isn’t enough time to shelter in place,” Gwen replied. “Even if there were, the body count would be unfathomably high if the debris from their ship hit us. Lives notwithstanding, there are too many valuable assets on this station that I’m sure they want to get their hands on.”

  “Madam Secretary-General, what is your decision?” Captain Starling asked.

  “Un-mute,” she ordered. Manuel could hear their voices again. “Manuel Carter. I am granting your ship permission to board. Decrease your velocity to a safe speed and prepare to dock at Sagan Berth Zeta 3. It’s on the underbelly of the ship. Look for the long trusses.”

  “A wise decision, Madam Secretary-General,” Manuel replied. “Also, when we’re docked, should you or your team decide to open fire on my crew, I will give the order to remote-detonate my ship, the Gaia. I’m sure I do not need to remind you that detonation at that close proximity would obliterate your docking bays, destabilize your orbit, and leave several hull breaches in the Sagan. Understood?”

  “Mr. Carter, if you keep to your end of the bargain and board without incident, we promise no retaliatory actions on our end,” Isla replied.

  “Very good. See you shortly. Carter out.” The call ended. Isla turned to the Joint Chiefs.

  “Admiral Heller, inform the soldiers at the docking bays to not engage the Gaia.”

  “Affirmative,” he replied.

  “So, what’s his game plan?” Isla asked. “Obviously, he wants to meet with me face to face. Can we anticipate his demands?”

  “First on his list will be the suspension of all military operations against Terra Rebirth,” Admiral Heller said. “Next, he will demand a blanket, global armistice that applies to all agents involved in his organization. That includes sleeper cells and affiliates.”

  “And how does he expect such a peace agreement to survive?” Isla asked. “He doesn’t really think we’re going to honor it. What’s he going to do? Leave his ship parked in the docking bay and keep it there till the end of time? Ready to ignite if we don’t follow his insane demands?”

  “His gerry-rigged ship serves the purpose of getting him at the table. He makes his demands while holding two thousand lives in the balance,” Commander Jackson said. “But to leave alive, he’ll be sure to kidnap the one person he knows that soldiers won’t aim weapons at.” With that, everyone stopped and turned to Isla.

  “I know,” Isla replied. “I knew that the moment he said he wanted to speak with me.”

  “Madam Secretary-General, this is dangerous and, might I say, a reckless course of action. There has to be another way,” Gwen said. “Perhaps we can attempt to disarm his spacecraft remotely.”

  “Turning off his thrusters won’t do any good. They’ll continue coasting at full velocity,” Isla said.

  “Then we can stall him,” Cade said.

  “Forget it. This man is not an idiot. He knows once he is onboard, the clock is ticking. This is the only option. If he tries to take me hostage, let him take me hostage. Then when the ship is a safe distance, you fire every weapon in our arsenal and destroy it. That’s an order.”

  “We are not losing two secretaries-general in one day,” Admiral Heller said. “We don’t even have a designated secretary of defense yet! Who’s next in succession? Secretary of agriculture? It’s absolute madness. The delegations would withdraw their memberships immediately, and the government would crumble.”

  Isla’s attention was temporarily diverted away from Admiral Heller and toward Cade. He was talking to somebody not present in the room.

  “Slow down, slow down… What? Are you serious?” Cade said.

  “Starling. What’s going on?” Isla demanded.

  “I’ll inform her immediately,” Cade said. He turned to Isla. “There’s been an incident in the ICU. It’s involving Leon Esposito.”

  25

  Dr. Srivastava examined Leon’s monitors as he lay unconscious. After a routine check on his vital signs, everything appeared normal. Leon was as healthy as a doctor could expect after he experienced sudden cardiac arrest. He had no clue how long Leon would be unconscious, though he knew that as soon as he was awake, the Special Protection Group would apprehend him for questioning.

  The doctor left the ward to go to his office down the hall. In his office was a small kitchenette, where he grabbed a mug and placed it under a black box that sat above his mini-fridge.

  Dr. Srivastava felt fatigued. He had still been operating on Alaskan time. So, he poured himself a cup of Sagan’s finest java. That was the actual name, Sagan’s Finest. Brewed on Deck 68, it was the best and only coffee available on the Sagan.

  He was not a fan. It didn’t compare to the freshly brewed coffee with the natural Alaskan spring water that he got used to at Guion Bluford Spaceport. However, after the day he had, anything would do. That included the chalk-tasting gunk produced in Earth’s orbit.

  In the wake of the day’s events, he thought it best to remove his smart lens and not peer through them. He didn’t want to read any more news. His mental well-being couldn’t afford to take any more stress, especially given the work he was responsible for overseeing.

  A few chugs later, and the doctor was good to go. He cleaned the mug and made his way back to the ward. However, on his way back, he noticed a slight increase in Leon’s adrenaline. Dr. Srivastava made a pit-stop in the equipment room next to the central ward.

  Inside the ward, he retrieved a sedative used for keeping patients in a medically-induced coma. The doctor inserted the 50-cc vial into a mega-shot to administer to his patient. Gurmeet left the medical room and went back to the ward.

  “Alright, Dr. Esposito,” he said as he walked into the ward. “Time to…” Leon’s heart monitor flatlined. It was because Leon was no longer in bed, nor connected to the sensors.

  “Hello, Doctor,” a voice said from behind. The doctor turned to see Dr. Esposito standing, fully conscious. Dr. Srivastava’s jaw dropped.

  “Leon,” he said. “You’re awake!” Leon did not say anything. He cocked his left fist and punched the doctor in the face. He flinc
hed back and dropped his mega-shot. Leon quickly dove to the floor and grabbed it.

  “I am so sorry to do this to you, doc,” Leon said. “You’re a great guy, but I can’t let you turn me into SPG.”

  “Leon, stop. Why are you doing this?” Dr. Srivastava said as he held his hands over his bloodied nose. “You’re never going to get off this station. They’ll be looking for you on every deck!”

  “Perhaps, but I am going to give myself a head start on all of you.” Leon grabbed Dr. Srivastava by the neck and pulled him toward him. “Like I said, it’s nothing personal.”

  He fought back but to no avail. Leon overpowered Dr. Srivastava, pulled the mega-shot to his neck, and located his jugular. Click. The shot administered quickly.

  Dr. Srivastava continued flaying his arms, but the rapidity in his movements quickly slowed until he wasn’t moving much at all.

  “There, there,” Leon said. “That’s much better. You just lay here. Enjoy a nice, quiet rest, and let me get the hell back to Earth.”

  Leon looked outside the room. There was nobody there. With his smart lens confiscated by GSF authorities, he would have to rely on instinct and memory to find a way out. On the bright side, he would be untraceable.

  ***

  Several decks below, Kiara and Matt, reached the docking bay. Their motorized, carry-on roller bags followed closely behind. Deck 70, the docking bay, was the lowest and largest deck on the Sagan. More than thirty cube-shaped nodes lined the see-through floor of the deck. Each of those nodes came attached with vacuum tubes that led outside the station and terminated at docking points for the various ships, ferries, and vessels that carried people to the Sagan.

  “Any plans when you get back to California?” Kiara asked Matt.

  “I’ll be checking in with my CO at Sally Ride City and awaiting new orders,” he replied. “We’ve got quite the mess on our hands with Shanghai, so I imagine they’re going to need me on the ground, helping the response teams. What about you?”

  “Me?” Kiara asked. “Wow. Where to begin? Let’s see. The chief exobiologist is under investigation. The entire department is in disarray. Terrorists, Pelicans, and aliens. Before this, my biggest worry was trying to find out if the squibbons on Europa would go blind from the new Poseidon bots with their infrared lights.”

  “I imagine if Leon’s position is vacated, the secretary-general will name a new chief exobiologist rather quickly.”

  “That’s reassuring,” Kiara said sarcastically. At least a hundred people moved about the deck. Kiara and Matt walked away from the elevator and toward the node that would take them to their skipper.

  However, as they approached it, they noticed that the cube lit up red.

  “That’s weird,” Matt said.

  “Pardon?”

  “Our gate is red. That means do not enter.”

  Kiara looked around at the other gates nearby.

  “They’re all red,” she observed. “Is that normal?”

  “That never happens.”

  Sure enough, they overheard other people on the deck complaining because their gates were not letting them leave the station. Then Matt noticed something. At one particular entrance, Zeta 3, a contingent of armed personnel, stood with laser-protection shields around the open entry of the node. A crowd of people began to form around the scene. Kiara and Matt approached to see what was going on.

  “What the hell?” Oone person shouted.

  “What aren’t you letting us off?” another asked.

  “People, stand back!” one of the guards yelled to the forming crowd. “At this moment, the station is on lockdown, and all civilian gates are closed until further notice.”

  “Hey!” A woman shouted while pointing her right index finger through the crowd. “That’s Manuel Carter!” Suddenly, the spirit of the group turned from disappointment to one of pure rage.

  Kiara looked through the faces, and sure enough, the world’s most wanted fugitive stood alone, with a contingent of SPG agents flanking him. His face was emotionless. He said nothing while people shouted.

  “Terrorist!”

  “I hope you hang!”

  “Whose idea was it to let this scumbag onto our station?”

  “Burn in hell!”

  They both watched as the contingent led Carter toward the central elevators.

  “Matt, what’s he doing here?” Kiara asked.

  “If the docking bay is sealed off, I doubt that GSF invited him here willingly,” he replied.

  “So, we’re stuck here?”

  “No, there’s another option. We go to the fighter bay,” Matt said.

  “On deck sixty-four?” Kiara asked.

  “Technically, it’s on decks sixty-one through sixty-four,” Matt said. “It is a massive opening in the ship. It needs space for fighter craft to enter. That and there are four levels of garages for the fighters. You need room for the massive robotic arms that move the crafts to and from the deployment area.”

  “But will one craft be sufficient?” Kiara asked.

  “A standard GSF Lancer has room for two. It has the same advanced heat shields as the Sidewinder. Sure it will be cramped, but it will get us back to Sally Ride in one piece. I can get us clearance to borrow one for the two of us.”

  “Great, now how do we get there? Elevator is a bit occupied.”

  “We’ll take the stairs,” Matt said.

  26

  Deck #40, Executive Suite

  Isla stood tall and alert behind her large oak desk in the Executive Suite of Deck 40. The main door to her office opened. Two armed Special Protection Group agents entered the room and flanked her sides. Two more entered the room and then another two. Finally, four agents arrived with Manuel Carter between them.

  “We scanned him,” one of the agents said. “He is free of daemonide or any other weapons.”

  “Thank you,” Isla said to him. “Now, please give us the room.”

  “Ma’am? Are you sure?” The same agent asked.

  “You said it yourself. No weapons and no daemonide. I can hold my own. If he comes at me, I’ll trigger the alarm.”

  “Very well. Agents, move out,” he said. They proceeded out the door.

  “Carter,” Isla said, emotionlessly. She made it a habit to carefully conceal her sentiments when confronted with someone she considered an adversary or enemy.

  “Isla Perez,” Carter replied.

  “Take a seat. Take a seat right over there,” Isla said while pointing to one of the two chairs before her desk.

  “Gladly.” He went to sit down.

  Not too far from the Executive Suite, Cade Starling found himself hunkered in his own office. The doors were sealed. He scanned the room twice with his own anti-bugging detector. Then, once he was sure that the area was secure, he accessed a private channel from his smart lens.

  “This is the chief of staff. My access code is zero-epsilon-gamma-omicron-nu-niner-seven-seven-gamma. Sagan Defense Unit, do you copy?”

  Cade waited several seconds. Then a deep, male, baritone voice answered his call.

  “This is Sagan Defense Unit Alpha. Captain Starling, we are awaiting your orders,” he replied.

  “SDU Alpha, secretary-general remains holed up in the Exec Suite. Condition unknown but presumed alive. I am in my office. The area is secure. Are you able to get a scan on the Terra Rebirth vessel?”

  “Captain Starling, that is affirmative. “

  “What is the current run-down of its subsystems?” Cade asked.

  “Ship contains at least two dozen inhabitants. Based on the design, it is likely they didn’t intend to stay on there long. Fuel capacity is less than fifty percent, but still more than enough to destroy the Sagan, should it be used as an incendiary explosive.”

  “Alpha Unit, our most positive outcome right now, would be successfully disarming and extricating that ship to a safe distance before it blows up. Is this possible?”

  “The Gaia is docked tightly to the station,” the
Alpha Unit said. “Any attacks against it, including cyberattacks, would be a huge risk. One that could get us all killed if we make one wrong move. Based on our scans of the engines, it would take only thirty seconds for the remote detonation sequence to engage. If we have any hope of escaping the blast from that vessel, we need to not only sever it from the Sagan in a clean sweep but get it far away with no time to spare.”

  “Copy,” Cade replied. “Give me a moment.” Cade opened up a hologram of the trusses below the docking bay. There were fifteen other ships docked with the Sagan, besides the Gaia. Most of the vessels were skippers. There was one ferry. Then Cade noticed one ship he did not expect to see. It was a repair craft, mainly used to move disabled vessels.

  “Alpha Unit,” Cade said. “The repair unit at Gate E2. Can that thing fly remote?”

  “Affirmative,” the Alpha Unit said.

  “Would it be able to handle a unique surface such as the one on the Gaia?”

  “The GSF Angel can dock to just about any surface out there. It was designed to latch onto a ship like a leech and move it out of harm’s way as quickly as possible.”

  “And if we wanted to use it to move something into harm’s way? “Cade asked.

  “That is also affirmative.” the Alpha Unit replied.

  “How far away is the Nebula?” Cade asked. “I have an idea, but we need to move quickly.”

  ***

  The arms and legs of the spacesuit automatically adjusted around Kiara’s body. Air ventilated from the pores of the suit to shrink until it conformed to her size. The back of the suit adapted around her neck while an orange helmet resembling a fly’s eye snapped to encapsulate her head comfortably. Once on, the translucent mask revealed a heads-up display with oxygen levels and related information.

  It was only the second time Kiara had worn a spacesuit, the first being her journey from Alaska to the Sagan. She was still amazed by how light they were. When she was in grad school, she tried on a replica of an old NASA spacesuit, just to get an idea of what astronauts had to deal with. She remembered it being big, clunky, and inefficient.