Chapter One

 

 

 

“The universe seems neither benign nor hostile, merely indifferent”

 

                                                                                                - Carl Sagan

 

 

 

               The silence and emptiness of space is beyond description. It engulfs anything that attempts to violate it. Objects of significant size on planet Earth that are launched from it's gravitational pull into the vast void of space are instantly reduced to infinitesimal. No one or nothing can change or have any affect on its eternal presence and perfect design in any way whatsoever. Even the term 'explore' falls short in defining an attempt at discovering its purpose, dimension, beginning, and end.

              

               And yet there they were.

 

               Two nearly identical craft conjoined like Siamese twins frozen at one specific coordinate in the unforgiving vacuum and unparalleled expanse. Their location is exacting and individually preconceived. The event is momentous in representation yet unnoticeable. Inside... one single passenger. At least a single physical form.

 

               A man. A man who remembers two pasts. A man torn between what he knew moments ago and what he now knows. A man swimming weightlessly within the confines of the two space craft. A man struggling to discover how it became possible that the two ships in which he was an occupant, that had not previously communicated with each other, that were from different sides of the universe, had come to be successfully docked and securely coupled in the most distant reaches of outer space.

Drawn to and now floating at the exact coupling point, the sliver of dimension that both separates and conjoins the twin vessels, he muses at how their locking mechanisms could be constructed so exactly similar that they would perfectly receive each other. He begins to run his hand along the joint marveling at its precision. Now he looks at his hand as it juts out of the sleeve of the space suit. Holding it up in front of his face he scrutinizes the fingers, the nails, and the creases in it. Is this his hand? he ponders to himself. This sends his mind into a spiral of memories that vacillate between one past and another.

He remembers a conversation with a woman. She is standing close to him. She has tears in her eyes and is very emotional. She is pleading with him to stay. She tells him his effort will be futile and that he is throwing his life away. He is telling her he feels an almost instinctive compulsion to make this trek. He remembers kissing her good-bye...holding her close...her lips soft and pressing against his. He too has tear filled eyes. He pushes away turning without looking back. And then...

His thoughts instantly snap to a different scenario. He is standing in front of what appears to be a grave. He is talking to the person who is buried at his feet. He tells her that he is leaving forever. He speaks to her as if she were there... alive. He reads the inscription on her tombstone and gets caught in a stare. He then turns and walks away.

               As he snaps back to reality, the lone man in space begins to feel a separation. A tearing apart of his physical body. Even a division in the very fabric of his being. He looks into the vessel on his left and then shifts his gaze quickly to the one on his right.

With hands on either side of his head he pushes, applying vise-like pressure on his skull in an attempt to keep himself from being torn asunder mentally. His face is twisted in anguish. Not just because of the pain he feels but more so due to the incredible splitting that is becoming more and more imminent.

 

He growls with teeth and eyes clenched tightly. Pressure builds causing his growl to burst into an ear-piercing cry.

 

The moment of greatest pain, coherence, and consciousness is instantaneously brought about by a complete and precise collision of matter at the molecular level. Each atom making up his physical body attempts to fuse and, in doing so, cease to exist and the solitary man in space.... vanishes.

 

He leaves behind only a scream that echoes for a second or two off the walls of what was once his confinement.

 

Silence.

Chapter Two

 

 

“I don't believe in a fate that will fall on us no matter what we do. I do believe in a fate that will fall on us if we do nothing.”
                                                                                                       - Ronald Reagan

 

 

                              Three hundred years earlier.....

 

 

The door actually closed quite softly. This surprised Eric considering the circumstance.

I know I'd be pissed if I were him, he thought.

The larger older man who had just entered the room crossed the floor taking deep concerned breaths that might as well have been verbalized comments. He scraped a chair up under his frame and, in an almost orchestrated and simultaneous move, slipped into it. He then folded his arms across his chest, which accentuated his slouched orientation and size and then released a drawn out exhale that puffed his cheeks out. His very presence was formidable. 

“Expelled.  Kicked out of college completely.” His Greek accent seemed more prominent. “I mean... is this what I'm understanding actually happened? And for partying no less? In fact...partying your way into jail. Have you thought for one moment, Eric, what your mother would say if she were still around?”

“Listen Dad.... it's not as bad as they made it sou....” He was cut off by both the blast of his father’s voice and the hand that had been jabbed forward in a traffic cop “stop” fashion.

“ERIC!!” His father paused to collect his thoughts for a moment. His outstretched hand slowly lowered. Folding his arms along the edge of the table and dipping his forehead down against them, he began mumbling something in the direction of his shoes. Oddly, to Eric, it sounded as though his father were a having a conversation with his mother. The black tuft of hair then slowly arose. The older man’s mustached face, course skin, dark deep eyes, thick eyebrows that matched his hair, was now staring directly at Eric.

“For all your academic life I have listened to teachers tell me how brilliant you are. They repeatedly said you could be the next Einstein or Hawking. You just need to get your act together... that's what they'd all end their comments with. Always the same. He just simply needs to get his act together.”

Eric squirmed in his seat. His strategy of how he was going to manipulate the evidence and the college expulsion event into something positive was quickly evaporating. He knew his dad had saved for years to send him to college and wasting an enormous part of that tuition was not only disrespectful and inconsiderate, it was just plain selfish. And well... stupid.

“I believe I'm going to have to insist you pay me back.” his dad continued with his head slightly shaking from side to side. This made Eric’s slumped head rise to attention with eyes wide. This was a reaction Eric did not see coming. His dad continued. “Yes.” A pause. “You now owe me the entire $27,000 you just blew on the tuition for that semester” Another pause. “I never thought I'd hear myself telling you that... but it just has to be that way. Otherwise, I think you will keep cruising through life expecting people to cover your ass for all your shortfalls and jacking around.”

Stefan Mikos had always tried to be a good father, good provider, and a fair parent. But his youngest son had just pushed his patience over the edge. His large Corsican build, black mustache, and dark beard-shadowed face was in direct contrast to his 21 year old son's thin wiry build and almost baby skinned smooth face. This, combined with Stefan's deep Grecian voice made for an intimidating confrontation from Eric's perspective. And Stefan's anger was not singularly fueled by a college dropout child.

He and his wife had decided from the moment each of their children were born that they were going to start a college fund for the three of them. They would sink so much per month per child into the school fund to build up at least enough to help them out with tuition or, if they chose a local community college, to possibly cover it in full. It truly was love money. Money saved out of parents concern for the future of their children. It was sacred. Made even more sacred with the untimely and sudden death of his wife, Celia...Eric's mother. And now, showing little consideration of his college fund's origin, Eric had just wasted all of his share of the 'love money'. This, more than anything, is why a father to son “talk” had become necessary.

Eric remained quiet. He stared at his father until it morphed into a stare through his father. His mind momentarily wandered off, thinking about what could've been and what now was going to be. What would he now do? Just get a job? Be the most brilliant assembly line worker in the world? Or could he finagle his way into a research position and re-boot his education once he was “in the field”? Not to mention he was going to be launching this half-ass career plan with a $27,000 debt to his dad. Stefan's voice interrupted Eric's daydream...which...actually...was more of a daytime-nightmare.

“Wait. No. That's not how this is going to go”, his father conjectured. For a moment, Eric’s entire body felt a jolt of relief, thinking that his dad had come to his senses and wouldn’t DARE waste his child’s talent and intellect. “I want all of our money back. You didn't just trash a semester. You trashed an entire college degree.” He turned his head to square it up with Eric's so he would be looking at him directly eye to eye. Eric’s face struggled to hide his shock.

“You owe me $51,700. Yup. The whole ball of wax buddy” he announced, slapping his massive hand flat down upon the shiny surface of the table. Once again folding his arms across his chest, he then leaned against the back of the chair without a break in his eye contact. “Everything I've paid for your education TO DATE” he said, emphasizing the last two words.

Eric closed his eyes slowly, and while taking in a deep breath, he shook his head equally as slow, and nearly allowed a welling tear to slip from between his lids. “No” he thought “I can't let him see me cry”. He instantly thought back to 20 seconds ago when he was thinking how difficult it would be to get started in life with a $27,000 debt to his dad. Now it was going to be nearly $52,000! Finally, he decided it was time to cave and break his painful silence with sincerity.

“Look dad.... I'm really sorry. I don't think there's much else I can say except... I screwed up... BIG TIME. And I am really truly sorry.” His voice was soft and genuine. There was a moment of awkward silence before Mr. Mikos spoke.

“Do you have any idea how disappointing this is Eric? Your mother would be heart broke” He puffed out a long exhaustive breath. Each of his next few sentences were separated by a several second pause. “We both wanted to see you succeed. I had thoughts of how proud I'd be when I watched you receive your diploma. A degree in astrophysics. Man. Wouldn't that have been awesome? Now it'll just be something you 'almost' did.” he said dejectedly.

Stefan Mikos lapped his dry rough-skinned fingers over the edge of the table and pushed himself back. As he stood up, he finished his lecture.

“You can keep the car though. It'll at least give you wheels to find and hold a job.... which I hope to God you do.” Then he turned and started to walk out. He paused at the doorway and without looking back in Eric's direction said, “We'll work out the payment details later” Then after several weight amplified footsteps, the catch on the door to the garage was heard snapping shut.

Eric Mikos sat in the now silent kitchen, with elbows on the tabletop and fists under cheekbones propping his head up and feeling very alone. His vision was fixated out the window on the bright green leaves swaying gently against the brilliant blue sky and the sunshine streaming between the foliage. The whole world was happily ignoring and almost mocking the disastrous life altering mess he had just experienced. 'Wasn't I always pretty much bullet proof?' he thought. 'This kind of crap never shackled itself to my ankles and pulled me under.' He knew his father's cultural makeup would ensure that the money WOULD be repaid. How could he have messed things up so badly. Stanford University was the problem. There is no way he's the only student they've ever had who was arrested for shoving a police officer in a drunken tirade. 'Bunch of stuff shirt pot smoking hypocrites... I'll show them and my dad', he thought. 'I'll make it big regardless of how I start out. It's not the journey that's significant. It's whether or not you reach the goal.'

His mind went blank for a moment. A wisp of cool air from the floor vent blew across his face as the air conditioner flipped on.

Suddenly, without moving his head from its knuckled perch, something moving out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. A corner of his father's weekend newspaper shuddered from the vent air. The News Democrat was strewn over the tabletop and partially covered some of the other clutter items that had taken up permanent residence there since his mom's death. But more importantly was the want ad page that was staring back at him from it’s black and white printed cover.

He instantly sat upright and reached into his back pocket retrieving his cell. Naturally, he wasn't going to actually use a newspaper, for crying out loud. Dinosaurs. A moment later his thumbs started a world class speed typing and scrolling session that landed him smack dab on the page of the job listings he most likely would apply for. He was now slouched down in the chair in the same fashion his dad had previously been postured. “Management” the page heading displayed. Eric slid through them quickly and adeptly.... speed reading each detail while soaking up a generalized grasp of the management job market. He then retraced his steps, this time bookmarking the positions that had previously snagged his attention.

He read each listing in a quiet whisper...

Law firm seeks overall office manager. No law experience necessary but a degree in business or business administration is required. Hmm? He looked away for a few seconds imagining himself in a law firm setting. There are lots of women in law firms… at least I think there are, he pondered. A 55-year-old heavy woman with her gray hair in a bun wearing a business skirt and glasses on the end of her nose appeared in his mind. He shook his head. Nah!

Medical practice expanding to two new locations. Managers being sought for both. A bachelor’s degree needed. Related experience a plus but not necessary. Okay… wait a second. Nurses. Possibility. He pressed his thumb on the listing for a moment until the “Copy” option appeared which he then selected.

Research laboratory looking for supply manager. Science related degree or experience not necessary but a big plus. Ordering of general supplies and inventory management are among the primary duties. Oh yeah. That one is right up my alley, he surmised. Could be a door. He repeated the “Copy” sequence.

 

Eric stared at the start of his soon-to-be long list of employment possibilities. 'My undergrad degree in advanced mathematics should cover these academic requirements and in fact should impress the hell out of them,' he thought.

Suddenly a ker-plunk 'water drop' sound dripped from his phone and the top of his screen lit up with a notification of an incoming text message.

 

“Tracy: at the B Dubs in Fitchburg right now. everybody waitin on ya! California boy has returned! lol

 

He X'd out the message.

‘Run off on a drinking binge right after you just got chewed out for... DRINKING!?! Yeah. That would be not-cool’, he thought. With a quick rejecting shove, the phone slid across the table. He ran the fingers of both hands through his thick black hair.

He sat for nearly 5 minutes trying not to look at the glowing device, as if it would capture him in its hypnotic beam and lure him into doing something he'd regret. At some point during the 6th minute, his gaze locked onto the small black rectangle form three feet away from him.

He pondered, On the other hand, what better way could there be to drown the pain, frustration, and total loss of life direction that had just occurred than to go out with friends and 'tie one on'!? Besides, everything he and his father could possibly be at odds about had just been discussed and settled in the last hour or so. He rationalized that ‘If I’m kicked out of college and I have to pay the old man $51,700… then I should be able to do whatever I want!’

Bending forward and reaching across the polished wooden surface, he just barely got a nail to latch on to the corner of the phone's protective case.

                              Flipping it over, and while still reclined in the kitchen chair, his fingers rattled off a reply.

 

Eric M: See you in 25 minutes!

Chapter Three

“The probability of success is difficult to estimate.

                                                       But if we never search, the chance of success is zero.”
                 

- A quote from Giuseppe Cocconi and Phillip Morrison's paper on “Searching for Interstellar Communications”

 

 

 

Eleven years later.....

 

September 19…present time

 

“Could you please not turn the lights off yet?”, Dr. Angie Hemmer pleaded through the cracked door of her office. After a moments pause and no response, she reiterated her request, only a bit louder this time. “Did you hear me? I would appre…”

“I did hear you Dr Hemmer. I’ll still be here quite awhile” the voice of the janitor interrupted. Pausing and caught in a deep thought stare, it occurred to her that he was possibly Nick Walker’s nephew. ‘Wait…” she pondered to herself “…what color is Trey’s hair?” She broke the spell and shook her head in an “Oh well, who cares” fashion.

“Great. Thank you” she replied as she swung the door closed. She then rolled over to her desk in her high back office chair. It took only a minute or two of scanning the triple HD monitors for her to recoup her thought process and find where she had left off. Her left hand sweeping her long blonde hair from in front of her eyes did little to interrupt her examining gaze. Slowly and unconsciously, she released it neatly behind her ear. No head movement was necessary. Her line of sight circled the charts and equations like a hawk scanning for prey. Everything was beginning to fall into place, and everyone was now waiting on Angie. It was her job to tie up loose ends and bring the venture’s final stage to a close.

The Horizon Mission Project was actually the brainchild of Dr Martin Truman, a not so notable astrophysicist who worked under Dr Carl Sagan for a mere four months… realistically, his only significant tenure. A 1979 paper titled “Man's Ability to Enter A Black Hole” that Truman authored, was laughed off and treated as science fiction... rather than science. But 30 years later, and a decade after Dr Truman's death, it would come to the attention of Dr Nicholas Walker, who not only gave it serious consideration, but actually drew up the blueprints for the spacecraft and project outline based on Truman's theories noted in that work. Walker genuinely embraced Truman's vision. And so, with a commitment that had lasted a lifetime and, of course, a number of financial backers later... the dream had finally taken shape.

What Walker did not foresee was the myriads of governmental, legal, and political obstacles he would need to hurdle before Horizon would become a reality. These hurdles continued to supplant themselves and Nick's tenacity continued to overcome them. By the summer of 2010 he had established MARCH, the Mid Atlantic Research Collaboration Headquarters, and presented The Horizon Mission Project to the board. By early 2011 the EHM and all of its on-board technology was being brought to life.

The EHM (pronounced as just 'M') or Event Horizon Module, was to become Earth’s first manned spacecraft that would journey directly to and INTO a black hole. It would be the first craft of its kind powered and guided by light and gravity. Once EHM’s initial booster rockets were spent and ejected, the ship would follow a single focused beam of laser light and would then devour that very beam as its propulsion mechanism. This form of propulsion would continue for 3 years, 7 months, 13 days, 9 hours, 41 minutes and 38 seconds... after which the EHM would come into direct view with the M87 black hole. This would be the moment where theory truly had to become reality.

Once M87BH was in its direct line of sight, with no other stars or astronomical bodies in its path, EHM would lock onto M87BH's enormous gravitational pull using a device called the NTWGT48, the abbreviation for Neutrino Time Warp Gravitational Towline 48x. Nicknamed the 'Net Weight 48' by the crew, this technological marvel would then drag the EHM to the skirt of the event horizon in less than 150 years. The long and short of Net Weight 48's functionality was that it would utilize the release of energy from the laser beams photon structure to 'funnel' the gravitational pull of M87BH through space-time. This ‘funnel’ would then engulf the EHM within that photon energy rope and tug it instantaneously through its warp tunnel. Sort of a 'self-made’ wormhole.

Once the crew was deep in hibernation the failure of the Net Weight 48 to do its job would unfortunately mean all 6 crew members would merely sleep eternity away in the outer reaches of space until systems failed. The ships programming would be designed to wake them in the event of a Net Weight 48 failure. But this would only give them the unfortunate luxury of being awake as they die a slow death 3 years away from earth.

Although Angela's work was centered on the first 3 years following the launch and the final, essentially unknown, time period at the end of the journey, she still represented the cleanup actions in launching the EHM into history and she knew she was close.

But in spite of the cluttering of scientific observations, summations, and calculations on the surface of her mind’s eye, there was definitely an underlying and disruptive foundation of personal issues that had escalated recently.

Angela Marie Chetland's life had been turned upside down with the death of her only child, Monica, and the alcoholism of her husband, Dr Mark Hemmer. Mark's drinking ramped up following Monica's death and Angie just wasn't willing to add AA visits to the list of complications in her now disrupted research career.

And so, as fate would always have it, something good was surging forward at the same time something bad was rearing its nasty head. The biggest breakthrough in her physics career was about to collide with the second worst thing to hit her personal life... her divorce. Why??? Why now?? she thought.

She yawned as she leaned back utilizing the springy rocking feature of the Deluxe Office Throne. Her eyelids began to flutter and she felt the thoughts and worries of the moment slip into a fog. Suddenly, she jolted forward with a jerking stop in a perfectly upright position.

“No way”, she spoke out loud through an exhaustive breath. “I can not and will not let myself sleep right now!”

She quickly stood up and began pacing around the room in an effort to accelerate her pulse and stimulate her mind. As she walked, she sent a text message to Dr Walker telling him of her inevitable tardiness or even possibly her absence from the 7am morning meeting. He'll just have to deal with it, she thought, they can all just review my accomplishments of this evening on the Shared Project Network.

Her mind traveled to the inside of the EHM, picturing what the final period of her life would be like crammed into a tiny ship in outer space. She would never see anyone she knew here on Earth again.

It was then that a somewhat sad reality struck her. After her divorce…who WOULD there truly be left on Earth that would emotionally bind her to this planet? She could travel into space at light speed and return to a planet that would've aged nearly 300 years and not one living soul would've missed her. Parents gone since her teenage years. No siblings. Relationships with aunts, uncles, and one single cousin were distant and only warranted an occasional holiday phone call. And friends... well... when you've worked as much as she had over the years, friends had become few and far between. In fact, everyone she now considered a friend was going to be with her on this journey.

Right then it all came together in her mind. It almost seemed too perfect. Why would she be viewing the timing of her divorce as a negative when in fact it represents the final binding tie to her Earthly existence? She froze mid-stride caught in a deep thought stare down at her feet. A smile began to seep into her face. Then it overtook the entire countenance of her being.

“Yeah”, she said out loud. “It is actually perfect. My only worries in this stupid divorce settlement are connected to what possessions I'm fighting to get and what Mark wants to grab. But I don't care. It won't be here when I get back anyway. I really... don't.... CARE!” She hoisted her oversized phone up in front of her and tapped out a message to herself to call her lawyer tomorrow and tell him to let Mark have it all. It felt right and was a relief. 

The newly found synergy of her two life events had throttled her adrenaline. She danced back to her desk and flopped down causing the captain’s chair to spin around and aim her directly at the trilogy of vivid plasma monitors. Spanning most of the trio was a physics equation that had not yet resolved. It was Angie's ongoing effort in solving the passenger sustenance weight problem on the journey. Food, oxygen, and hygiene supplies were a considerable mass for 6 people. Even with the hibernation process covering a large part of the trip, their time spent awake was scheduled to be quite lengthy in order for them to physically observe the approach and possible crossing of the EH. Suggestions had been made but were unproven up to this point. Construction of the ship had been completed several weeks ago based on closely estimated weight to passenger to propulsion/fuel ratios. Yet two or three major issues began to challenge the team’s expertise and the October 10th launch date. A date that had been moved back several times.

Worst of all... several large-scale investors were now voicing their objections, with one even threatening to sue for a refund of her entire contribution. “I want to live to see happen what I invested in… for crying out loud!, she had screamed at Angie on the phone. All of this was, of course, explained in the prospectus and disallowed in the final investment agreement. Any attempts to reclaim their monies would be challenged and more than likely defeated in court. But it wasn't necessarily about the money. It was simply about the hassle of having to come up with a reason... an excuse… to throw at them. Just talking to these people made Angie cringe. ‘Begging for forgiveness’ regarding her shortfall, elevated communication with them to the level of just downright painful. Fortunately, Walker played diplomat, absorbing the really heavy fallout in that department. (2)

Her hand almost unconsciously slid over the screen of her iPhone to check the hour. It was by dutiful intention that she never used the wall clock. This prevented her from working 'under the influence' of time constraints, which restricted the flow of her ‘creative juices’. Good grief, she thought, 0145! Quarter to 2 in the morning?!? No doubt, she would absolutely have to miss the 7am meeting. A momentary mind drift, prompted by her phone’s background picture of Monica, was rudely interrupted by a “BATTERY LOW!” window along with its familiar notification tone.

“What?? Great!” she whispered discouragingly under her breath. “So much for this stupid thing” she gruffed out while scooting the flat pad charger into a far back corner of her desk with a back sweep of her fingers. It had quit functioning correctly since the purchase of the new case and she’d been aware of this unfortunate mis-match for quite some time. Now she was silently cursing her failed self-reminders to bring an extra charging cord from the car. “I guess I’ll go get it right now” she murmured with frustration.

She pushed back from the desk and clamped a hand around the strap of her purse-like case as she passed through the doorway. Still staring at her “to do” list which now occupied her cell screen, she nearly collided with the janitor who was mopping along backwards in her direction. She smiled and laughed inwardly at how oblivious he was to her sudden existence in his world. It would’ve been easy to skirt around him and simply blurt out where she was briefly headed, but for some inexplicable reason she felt inclined to make her presence known

“Excuse me” she said jabbing one extended finger into his uniformed back in order to now prevent him from mowing her down. He was seriously startled and immediately and simultaneously went upright and spun around to face her.

“DANG!” he exclaimed followed by a loudly blown breath.

“I'm sorry” she chuckled apologetically “I didn't mean to scare you that way”. It became hard not to notice that this guy was in fact too cute for a janitor. ‘It must be Trey Walker’ she thought ‘So be nice!’ She decided not to ask as he may not want to be recognized. Nick had only talked about Trey occasionally and few, if any, here at MARCH had ever met him. After his parents, Nick’s brother and sister-in-law, were killed in a car wreck, Trey, who wasn’t married, moved closer to his uncle.

“Oh... no problem Dr Hemmer! What's up?”

“I have to run to my car real quick and I just didn't want you to think I'd left” she explained.

“OK. I'll leave the light on for ya!” he said jokingly through a half smile.

As Angie started to walk away, she hesitated a moment questioning her decision to leave with the door to her office open. She didn't really know this guy and just how trustworthy he was. On the other hand, what would a janitor do with the highly technical information and equipment in her office anyway. Still paused, she turned halfway in his direction.

“You know… if you want you can run a vacuum over my carpet while I'm gone. I mean… if that helps… since I'm here so late… all the time” she stammered out with a touch of flirt in her body language.

“Well... I appreciate the offer, Dr Hemmer. But my vacuum is all the way on the other side of the facility” he responded pointing over his shoulder with a hitchhiker thumb “and besides, I only do that every other night.” He pointed at her. “Got yours just last night. But thank you anyway!”

She gave a tiny nod, a superficial smile, and continued on her way, noticing how the sound of her shoes squeaked on the polished linoleum and echoed through the empty corridor. Her sense of responsibility rushed back into her mind as she realized there was no way she'd complete what she had set out to accomplish tonight. Heading in the direction of her vehicle gave her a sense of longing for home. It was going to be VERY tough to walk back into this building once I reach my SUV, she thought. But Angie had just committed herself to returning to her office by leaving it unlocked.

It was then she felt her body nearly collapse with complete and utter exhaustion. Truly this was beginning to interfere with her ability to focus. She paused once more and looked back down the long tunnel of a hall. Maybe it is time to just call it a night after all, she willingly convinced herself in thought. Eyeing her purse she had grabbed containing the Range Rover's key fob, she reviewed momentarily if there was anything else in her office she absolutely needed to take home with her.

I really don’t think there is, she deduced in her mind. And besides, that janitor guy already has keys to get into all the offices.

“Hey!” She yelled, her voice echoing slightly. She could see him break from his floor scrubbing and glance her way with up-raised questioning brows. “Would you mind just closing my door? I've changed my mind and don't think I'm going to do anymore tonight”

“Sure thing Doc!” he shouted back. “Have a good night! And be careful going home!”

“Thank you! You too” She then turned, took a few last steps to the exit door, and swung it open into the cool night air.

 

Chapter Four

“The less government interferes with private pursuits, the better for general prosperity”

 

• Martin Van Buren

 

 

 

September 20…present time

 

 

“Is SHE going to be here this morning?” asked Mia Tilona.

Nick Walker looked up from the several reports he was mulling over and glared at her over the top of his half-eye reading glasses. There was most certainly a stern warning in his expression. It was no mystery whom Mia meant by ‘SHE’ and Nick was not in the mood to play peacekeeper.

“Yes. SHE is going to be here...” he said in a mumbled angry tone. After a few moments, his irritation with the implied confrontation caused him to sit up and slip his glasses off. He tossed them onto the huge conference table with a sharp clatter and then in a louder, more firm tone said “... and I insist that you keep your disdain to yourself. Remember, NASA has the power to pull the plug on all of this. So you kiss her butt. And I mean it.”

Nicholas Walker was no more fond of Shari Preston than any of the others. As the compliance officer from NASA, her constant badgering of the staff, management, and even investors had been a major thorn in his side since day one. But if there was one thing Nick had come to know it was that the government could shut this project down in a heartbeat if MARCH failed to cooperate with NASA authorities. In so many ways, it seemed strange to Nick that a government entity could regulate space. Tell someone whether they could or couldn’t send something into the vast void of space. Of all the things politicians were determined to lay their hands on and control, outer space would have never crossed his mind as one they would succeed in regulating.

With her arms folded onto the surface of the table, Mia now tilted her forehead down to the its edge while moaning. “Whatever you say boss” He gave her a second 'I'm warning you!' look, even though she couldn't see him. Dr Walker glanced at his watch and then at the digital clock built into the thermostat on the wall. He and Mia were the only two in the room and the meeting would be starting in 5 minutes. Where is everyone, he thought. He was aware that Angie was a ‘no show’, but no one else had notified him of their inability to attend. Mia sat back up causing her chair to creak loudly, piercing the silence of the large meeting room.

Suddenly the door swung open and a mobile conversation strode in. One of them laughed loudly which changed the depressing atmosphere inside to somewhat more jovial. Habib Tafik and Dr Sanjay Patel both stepped through the doorway carrying with them the odor of fresh hot coffee and a look of enthusiasm on their faces. Trailing several steps behind them was Dr Shari Preston, who was also cradling a hot covered cup of java and added to the room’s aroma the scents of hairspray, perfume, and the outside air.

As the three new attendees settled into their conference chairs and swiveled them to a forward position, Sanjay and Habib finished their chatter with the latter stating, “You'll see. They'll make the playoffs next year”. Sanjay chuckled and smiled while pointing a finger at Habib and shaking his head in friendly disagreement of that prediction.

“Actually, I’m moving away so I won’t see!” he replied with a well-acted ‘light bulb just lit over my head’ expression, followed by a burst of laughter. All the meeting’s attendees would in fact be tens of thousands of miles from earth well before the playoffs. Mia had now come to full attention but, in spite of Dr Walkers warning, was giving Dr Preston a despising up and down look out of the corner of her eye. Shari Preston felt, but ignored, the steely stare and went about her business as the now seated woman, began pulling stacks of paper from her dark burgundy leather shoulder bag that was on the floor near her feet.

Nick slipped his lab coat sleeve back an inch or two in order to verify the time. 7:03. He scanned the perimeter of the polished meeting table to make sure they were all ready before he brought the meeting to order. The group seemed considerably smaller, he thought, even though it was truly only Angie that was missing. Scooping up his glasses and sliding them halfway up the bridge of his nose, he cleared his throat in a preparatory manner, using it as though he were hammering a gavel to silence any remaining conversation and bring the “court to order”.

“Well... I want to thank you all for being here and being on time” he said forgivingly as he lifted himself from his chair. “And, as usual, we welcome the presence of Dr Preston to our facility and this meeting.” He smiled and gave a barely noticeable nod in her direction which she graciously returned.

“Can’t really say that for Angie baby! She be runnin' late!” Mia slipped in. Mia was also not a fan of Dr Hemmers. The two of them had practically come to blows in the past and no one really knew what this personal vendetta was all about. For those who knew the two of them well enough, one could only conclude that Mia viewed Angie, with her religious convictions, as a ‘goody two shoes’. In an effort to disqualify Mia's derogatory comment, he intentionally avoided looking in her direction when he explained Angie’s absence.

“Dr Hemmer has excused herself this morning due to the late hours she kept last night resolving the cargo weight issue” he said as he walked slowly towards the smart media whiteboard on the wall. “We all actually owe her a debt of gratitude for her mammoth efforts in this regard.” Looking down at his phone, he accessed the shared project app and flashed Angie's equation and notes on the board. Everyone looked it over for a few moments and then nodded their approval.

“Here here!” Habib said raising his travel coffee tumbler in a toast-like fashion. Walker smiled and tipped his head in Habib's direction in acknowledgment of the appreciative gesture.

“I second that” Dr Patel added, almost jokingly clinking the edge of his coffee mug against Habib's insulated receptacle.

“Thank you gentlemen. Your appreciation will be noted and passed on to Dr Hemmer” Dr Walker said emphatically while looking in Mia's direction. “Now let's get down to the real meat of this get together. First, I wish to point out that the project has progressed far enough now that only the crew is required to attend these morning meetings, unless of course, one of the techs is specifically requested. This is a significant milestone” He paused as everyone weakly applauded this remark. “Thank you... thank you very much. We are nearing total launch readiness and only minor technical and navigational details need to be ironed out” He looked at Dr Preston while making that statement and felt a bit uneasy when she turned her eyes from his in response to the comment. Although his smile melted slightly and his gaze was still attempting to read Dr Preston’s body language, he continued.

“As all of us on the MARCH team are always connected through our shared project communication tools, I believe we'll start by allowing Dr Preston to address us so she can exit while we complete our internal part of the meeting” He paused a moment and then, in an introductory manner, said “Dr Preston”. He smiled, waved an open palm in her direction giving her the floor, and then sat down.

Shari Preston stood up and slid her chair under the table as far as it would go. Dr Preston never failed to project 'government' in every aspect of her 5' 4” appearance. The navy blue blazer with the stitched NASA logo screamed of authority as did her gray slacks, red-white-and-blue ascot, and loosely pinned hair bun. The dark rimmed reading glasses that dangled on the tip of her nose were more esthetic than functional as she appeared to always be avoiding them... even when reading. It was difficult to get a smile or laugh out of her as she was constantly on the defensive when visiting MARCH. Although she her fidgety actions gave the impression of impatience, it truly was not her MO. In reality, she was simply a nervous individual who had to be moving all the time.

It took what seemed like an eternity for her to shuffle through her papers to find the first item of the day. Slipping one of the sheets out of the stack, she displayed an 'Ah...there it is' look on her face and began to speak.

“OK. As you know we at NASA are closely monitoring the Horizon Mission Project in order to insure the safety of the public, your staff, and of course, the crew of the EHM.” She paused a moment after giving this oft-repeated opening comment. Gazing up and down her selected sheet she once again raised her brows in recognition of her desired information. “We do understand your deadline for a launch is approaching and appreciate your eager anticipation of that day. But it has come to our attention that there are still a few items that need to be addressed”

Once again she searched around the page as though she had either lost her place or was selecting which tidbit of bad news she would drop on the MARCH folks first. Dr Walker’s brow furrowed slightly as he cautiously glanced at Dr Patel, now feeling something awful was about to be divulged. Even Mia and Habib squirmed in their seats as the uncomfortable feeling became thick in the air.

“Ah... OK here...” In keeping with her training at presenting these regulatory bombs, Dr Preston momentarily looked beyond the piece of paper she was holding with both hands so her eyes could make contact with each crew member. She then continued reading.

“After careful examination of the device known as the NTWGT48, NASA has decided to disqualify it...” Each person in the room moved forward in their seats with glaring eyes and raised their voice in astonishment as Dr Preston reactively escalated hers so as to still be heard over the talking “... as a valid proven form of propulsion thereby requesting the MARCH organization and the Horizon Mission Team to provide either evidence to the contrary or evidence of an alternate form of propulsion... EXCUSE ME!” She expressed loudly at the end of her written statement in an attempt to quiet the group.

Dr Walker was lightly shaking his head but chose to take control of the meeting to bring it to order.

“Please! Please! Quiet everyone! You have to allow Dr Preston to finish her comments!” he said in a loud but controlled voice knowing that deep down inside, he TOO wanted badly to protest.

“Allow her to finish WHAT?” Dr Patel exclaimed in his thick Indian accent, “Destroying everything we've worked for these past 8 years!” He finalized his remark looking down to his lap with a strong shaking of his head which was clearly done to prevent himself from saying more than he should.

“Do you realize without that propulsion unit operating in the EHM that it would take us a thousand years to reach M87?” Habib questioned. He ended his comment with a slightly more threatening approach than Dr Patel. His challenging stare directly into Dr Preston's eyes remained for a few seconds after he finished. “That's what the whole thing is about!” Habib turned to look directly at Dr Patel. “Wait till Angie hears this” he said with his eyes slitted and his lips tight.

“I sure wouldn’t want to be the one to tell her” Mia said as she lounged back in her chair stretching both hands out above her and then ‘finger intertwining’ them behind her head.

Walker then sat waiting for a barrage of insults to fly from Mia and he was actually prepared to 'open the gate', so to speak. and let her tear into Preston. But surprisingly, she just stared down the NASA employee, straight browed with a disgusted upturn to the side of her mouth.

Once the room settled down, Dr Preston scanned everyone's faces to see if they were finished with their comments. She appeared to be totally unaffected by the whole scene and even glanced at the clock on the thermostat as if to say... You are all wasting my time. Just as she was about to continue, Mia finally did speak her mind.

“So … as the people who have labored both mentally and technologically to create the incredible Net Weight 48, are we allowed to ask you any questions regarding this NASA-onian decision?” she queried in a sarcastic manner with her arms now tightly crossed and head cocked to one side.

“OK... well... as I have come to know many of you and realize how hard you have all worked on this...”  Shari Preston circumnavigated Mia's question by turning to face a different direction. She paused, swallowed, and then continued, “… if MARCH had a way to prove it's functionality and that it is not going to endanger the general population or the crew... “ she was interrupted again.

“The GENERAL POPULATION?!?” Several voices expressed. Dr Walker spoke up this time. “How would something deployed after traveling 3 years away from earth endanger the 'general population'? I mean Shari... that's preposterous”

“Well... OK... we feel that it's very presence on the craft at liftoff could raise security issues from competing nations who think a visit to a black hole might endanger the universe” she explained slightly more timidly.

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME!?!” Habib said loudly. “You are thinking we'll be shot out of the sky after liftoff? In other words... unless we prove the EHM WILL NOT make it to M87 we'll be shot down? Right?”

“Well... that and the fact that it has not and cannot really be tested here on earth. Hence the crew would be at great risk in believing it will propel them to the event horizon of M87BH when that theory… is just that... theory” She stated in a voice that again conveyed skepticism itself.

Dr Preston was abruptly startled by Nick Walker standing up. He looked at Preston and curled a 'come here for a minute' finger at her as he walked towards the door. Dr Preston smiled to the rest of the crew as she apologized for stepping out behind Dr Walker. He closed the door behind Shari and then turned to confront her… moving up threateningly close…practically nose to nose. Dr Preston’s chin doubled as she scrunched her head away from him and then took an unbalanced step back.

“Listen... what we're all hearing in there is that the government is suddenly afraid we're going to succeed and that we've become a national… even international… threat if we do so. Is this for real? Is that essentially what I’m hearing?” he said angrily through clenched teeth.

Her actions continued to reflect that she felt threatened. He could tell she was struggling to look him in the eye and was beginning to perspire in the aftermath of the stressful announcement. Then suddenly her courage and authority swept over her demeanor.

“Look Dr Walker. Don't shoot the messenger. I...”  He cut her off

“Don't even go there! You are NOT just a messenger! You're the one who reports every move we make to NASA for crap sake!” he shouted under his breath with an accusing finger being jabbed into her face. “Now I don't know if you had anything else you were going to address this morning but I'm requesting you put that off for now and let us get on with something more positive. My crew can only handle so much bad news in one day” He turned for the door and paused before opening it. He finished without looking back. “In fact I'm not requesting. I'm ordering that your attendance at this meeting be terminated immediately”. After another tiny pause, he slowly opened the door and entered the room without any dramatic anger emanating from his mannerisms.

For a moment or two, she simply just stood there in the hall with a semi-shocked look on her face. And yet she had expected a less than joyous response to this news. Shari Preston's job was filled with these unpleasant moments. She frequently had to wipe the saliva off her face from close up chewing outs and then, lift her chin, straighten her spine, and walk back into the fray. This was one of those encounters.

Reaching out to prevent the door from closing, she stepped in behind Nick. Exuding professionalism in every movement, Dr Preston glided around the perimeter of the table towards her seat. Nick settled back into his chair and gave Shari a look that signaled to her to end her portion of the meeting. She stepped up behind her chair, bent down stiffly to grab her attache' bag, and then, after straightening the stack of paper in two directions by knocking the edge on the table, she inserted them into the leather case.

“That is all I have for today. Miss Tilona” she said, slightly bowing her head towards Mia. “Gentlemen” she glanced at each of the men in the room and picked up her bag and shuffled out.

No sooner than the door latch clicked, a ruckus erupted in the room with everyone wildly expressing their opinion on what they had just heard. Walker stood up waving his palms out in front of him to quiet the crowd.

“OK! OK! PLEASE QUIET DOWN!” he shouted. He then held up one finger in a 'hold on a second' manner. The other attendees slumped back into their seats, each with a different dissatisfied look on their face. Stepping to the door and opening it, Nick poked his head out and glanced in every direction. He then closed the door behind him and returned to his place at the head of the table.

“Now... we are NOT scrapping the Net Weight 48 and we ARE going to launch the EHM on schedule” he almost whispered. “I've got an idea.” And then he started to smile.

 

Chapter Five

 

                “We judge ourselves by what we feel capable of doing, while others judge us by what we

                     have already done”

                                                                   

                                                                        - Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

 

 

 

September 21…present time

 

 

Angie Hemmer realized that all day yesterday she had completely avoided talking to anyone. Even Nick Walker, who is normally very difficult to avoid, had not conversed with her even once. It hadn't occurred to her that possibly he was avoiding her... which in fact was the case.

Nearly everyone on the team had been avoiding Angie as none of them wanted to be the bearer of the bad news about the Net Weight 48. All of them were hoping Nick's idea he had discussed with them following the meeting would pan out. In reality, Angie was no more excited about seeing Nick than he was about seeing her. She had yet to resolve the supply weight issue and was feeling quite inadequate and defeated... not something you would want to convey to your boss. As far as she was concerned, the whole weight issue had only arisen due to one arrogant investor who was insistent on going along on the trip. He himself was consuming any buffer they had designed into the ship... and then some. Add in his required supplies and you've hit a wall that just might not be scale-able. But Kurt Lehman, had been from the beginning and still was, the largest contributor to the project making it impossible to 'kick him out' at this point.

She rounded a corner from the lab hall and suddenly found herself strolling straight toward Dr Walker. He spoke first.

“Well.... long time no see”, he said jokingly. She responded with a brief 'very funny' smile and then flipped her hair back to the right, adjusted the strap of her attache' case on her shoulder and then squared herself in front of Nick.

“I've been busy with...” She quickly realized what was about to come out of her mouth causing her brain to scream out .. 'DON'T SAY THAT!'  “... so much last-minute stuff that I have just pushed myself too far” she finished, with hardly a pause where the bump in her thoughts had shifted gears.  He reached out and touched her shoulder.

“Angie... seriously” he had genuine concern in his expression and in his voice. “Don't let it all drag you down physically. With the supply cargo weight problem solved we will be simply coasting to the launch date. Your good. It'll all be just fine.”

“Thank you Nick.” In order to not complicate the conversation she simply nodded to him and turned in the direction of her office. Once she was far enough away from him though, she attempted to decipher what he had just said about the supply cargo effect. Did he say it was DONE?? Couldn't be, she thought. I'm the only one working on it and I'm POSITIVE I didn't finish it Tuesday evening. 'I must have misunderstood him', she surmised. 'He probably meant that ONCE IT WAS DONE we'll be coasting to the launch date'. She shook her head as if to shrug it off.

Angie had taken a full day away from that part of her work figuring if she stepped back from it she might see it from a different perspective and solve the whole thing in an instant. She plunged the key into the knob of her office door and then, in one well rehearsed and oft repeated motion, slipped the key back out, flung open the door, tossed her shoulder bag onto the sofa and spun around slipping into her desk throne while twisting it into position squarely in front of the monitor array. After a moment of startup screens and password entries, her work station desktop window was staring back at her. Her eyes scanned the array in disbelief.

 

Nick Walker nearly jumped out of his skin when Dr Hemmer barged through his office door.

“Whoa! Angie... what's going on?!?” he said with a bit of a chuckle in his voice.

“Cut the crap Nick. I'm not in the mood and you know why.” She said in a voice that would best be described as controlled shouting. “You know… I realize I was at a stale mate on the cargo weight roadblock. But I would've eventually figured it out. But to have Mia or yourself step in and finish it without asking me is well... I think insulting and rude”

“What are you talking about??” Nick asked with his brow furrowed. His chair creaked as he stood up and stepped around to the front of his desk in order to send a message to Angie that he had nothing to hide and he was determined to hear her concerns.

“I'm talking about this...” She then pushed her way past him stepping behind his desk and began pecking at the keyboard. After a few moments of smooth clattering she reached up and turned his left monitor outward for him to see. “I have to admit, it's quite brilliant so I'm guessing it was either you or Mia.” Nick tilted his head back in order to view the monitor through his bifocals.

“Yeah. Uh.. I've already seen this” he said while scrutinizing the columns and rows of numbers. His gaze moved from the monitor to her. “Uh I don't get it though. What's the problem? We were all very impressed with your work on that Angie. What are you accusing Mia or myself of having done?”

“That! I'm accusing you of having done THAT! I didn't do it” she said angrily while pointing at the screen. “I left Tuesday night with that problem unresolved and was really quite frustrated. I don't mind getting credit for something like that but honestly... I'd rather have REALLY done it!”

Nick stepped back around behind his desk while gently moving her out of his way. He collapsed into his overstuffed chair and turned the monitor back towards him. He tapped a few keys on the keyboard in order to bring up the username of the person to last edit the equation. There was no sign of anyone other than Angie having worked on it.

“I tried that myself” Angie confirmed now looking over his shoulder “It does appear that it was me that did it. But I guarantee you, it was not. I figured you had some override password to magically log me in when I'm not even here... or something like that.”

“No no. There's no override anything.” he stated in a 'don't even go there' attitude. He took a deep breath as if to denote reluctance in his next comment “Don't get mad when I ask this... but are you absolutely sure you didn't do this?”

She quickly folded her arms in front of her and titled her head to one side.

“I may have stayed up late that night, but I didn't stay up so late that I was in a daze or something” she replied with a touch of indignation. “I would know…” her arm snapped straight out with her finger jabbing up to the monitor “… if I figured all that out and especially if I did it that brilliantly. Besides, why....”

Nick suddenly held his hand up to silence her.

“Did you look at the time stamp on the final solution?” he asked turning his head to glance up to her from the screen.

“Well... actually no” she said with some reluctance while also leaning forward to see what he was noting.

“It was done in the wee hours of Wednesday morning... in other words Tuesday night. The night you last worked on it” Nick pointed out. “Do you remember what time you left? And do you remember locking the door to your office?”

Her face turned a slight shade of red. She did remember. It all came back to her quite clearly in fact.

“I left at exactly 2 am and the janitor was working on my office so I left with it unlocked” she lied. He actually was working outside her office, she thought. But as she had noted to herself that night, he has keys to everything anyway.

He looked over at her out of the corner of his eye. “It’s time stamped 0530 though” Nick pointed out.

“What?!?”Angie blurted out pushing herself closer over Nick. He could now smell her perfume and hair as it draped next to his face. ”Listen to me”, she said stepping to the desk side now facing Dr Walker. “I'm positive I was out of that building right at or even slightly before 2.” Her eyes emphasized her sincerity and he truly believed her. He regularly fought to keep his eyes and feelings in check, but her beautiful facial features were captivating. He knew that any revelation of his inner desire to share those feelings with her would create an uncomfortable situation considering the lengthy journey in a very small space they were soon to share.

“Soo... it wasn't you and we can pretty well rest assured that the janitor didn't finish the equation” he stated with an exhale” At this point we'll just consider it a gift from God and keep our eyes and ears open in hopes of finding the brilliant generous culprit.” The label he had given to the invader sounded as silly to him as it did to her. “They were either physically on site or hacked into our system. One or the other. And with the network security and firewalls we've got here, the latter is highly unlikely”

“Nick...” Angie said in a now softer questioning tone “...could Habib or Dr Patel or even Mia have done this just to insure the current launch date is met? I mean I admit I was struggling”

“Trust me Angie, if you were struggling with it, none of them could’ve done it either” Nick reassured her. “You are the best physicist we have.”

“You mean the best one you know of!” she said slightly laughing. “Well... I'm sorry to have bothered AND accused you. By the way, is that your nephew working the night shift in Section B?”

Nick paused a moment. He was trying to remember where Trey had been assigned.

“I don’t think so. Why?” he queried.

“Well I’ve never met Trey and have no idea what he looks like” Angie replied. “His hair is blonde-ish, right?” Nick gave a ‘where did you hear that’ from kind of smirk at her.

“Yeah…. No!” he laughed. “It’s dark brown” She rolled her eyes and gave a half smile.

“Ok. So it might’ve been him. This guy did have dark hair” she defensively shot back. “I’m just looking for clues at the scene of the crime, man”

“It's all good Ang” he said in an effort to calm her down while also genuinely trying to make some kind of in-road with her. “I really don't mind you stopping in” this time smiling and looking directly into her eyes. She smiled back and felt the intentional direct eye to eye contact.

 

Back in her office, Angie looked over her desk area carefully, searching for anything that might clue her in to what might've taken place Tuesday night... actually Wednesday morning. Before touching anything other than what she had moved when she first came in earlier and during the few moments she was in here yesterday, she scanned the keyboard, mouse, monitors, desk drawers, floor surrounding her desk, and the high back chair. Nothing. She paused a moment trying to remember if her door was locked yesterday midday, the first time she had entered after having left early Wednesday morning. She was sure it had been locked. The strangest thing about all of this was that the perpetrator had done something GOOD as opposed to having stolen something or vandalized the office.

It just didn't make sense. Who would break into a facility like this to complete a physics equation?? It made her think of the scene in “Back to The Future 3” when Doc and Marty are on an old time locomotive both wearing scarves over their faces and packing six shooters. They were trying something Doc had concocted to get the train up to the necessary speed to send the DeLorean, that was on the tracks being pushed by the locomotive, ‘Back to The Future'. The train engineer shouted at them over the noise of the engine, “Is this a train robbery?” Doc looks at Marty and then back at the conductor and yells, “No! It's a science experiment!”. Would this person have said the same thing?? I'm not breaking into your scientific facility... I'm advancing it!

Ridiculous. Just not possible.

“Hold it... it is totally ridiculous. Soo... what if...” she said in a whisper to herself. She finished the thought without verbalizing it. What if this genius intruder was in fact a spy. A spy from a foreign government or an unknown competing private business entity. She concluded that this 'spy' made a mistake by resolving the only hold up on the project, copying it all over to a portable backup drive of some type in order to literally cart it out of the MARCH facility, and then forgot to delete it from MARCH's system. That would be an awfully obvious error for a brilliant undercover physicist to make. The whole thought of that scenario was somewhat counter conducive. Why would someone smart enough to work out this stifling roadblock be so blind as to forget to cover their tracks? In fact, if they had been 'stealing' all this information anyway why would they come here to work on it? Why not work on it offsite? On the other hand, this person could be one of their employees. She ran through a list of those employees capable of this handicraft and what their motives might be. It was the only real answer. There would be no other way they could've broken into the facility early Wednesday morning, resolved and completed the weight issue, and then left without... someone seeing them. But who? she again queried.

 

 

Dr Sanjay Patel rocked backward at his desk with his fingers intertwined behind his head pondering what had just been discussed in his surprise visit from Nicholas Walker. Was Angie Hemmer losing it? Had she completed the weight analysis project and due to the late hours she had been keeping, experienced a memory lapse of the work she had done? Or was there a brilliant anti-criminal stalking the halls of MARCH anonymously helping the project forward? Certainly the former of those two theorem sounded much more credible. What about Habib or Mia? Could one of them have just gotten unnecessarily impatient with Dr Hemmer's lack of progress and stepped in to solve the puzzle? It didn't really sound like them. And besides, Habib was a computer hacker and wasn't really capable of such advanced physics. In reality, none of it sounded feasible.

Suddenly he sat up straight placing both hands palm down on the place mat on his desk. Of course! I believe I know who might've done this, he thought. Or at least PAID to have it done. The one person who would most benefit from this project moving forward. The one and only passenger whose purpose for taking a more than likely one way trip into eternity was to evade the long arm of the law... simply because he knows it's not THAT long of an arm, Sanjay conjectured. His hand jutted forward to pick up his iPhone but suddenly froze.

“Are you sure you want to make such an accusation?” Sanjay thoughtfully whispered. Kurt Lehman was not only wealthy but powerful as well. His political and business connections were broad and deep. Deeper than I can probably ever imagine, Dr Patel thought. One erroneous phone call and my career will nose dive overnight. Who could he bounce this hypothesis off of, he thought. I believe I can trust Habib enough to...

“Dr Sanjay Patel.... Dr Sanjay Patel”, the alluring digital female voice softly announced over the intercom. “You are needed in the Sagan Meeting Room on Level 1 immediately. Dr Sanjay Patel, you are needed in the Sagan Meeting Room on Level 1 immediately”

The very moment the announcement began, Sanjay's head and eyes snapped in the direction of the thermostat clock. 1435. “I totally forgot about that meeting!”, he scolded himself. “Holy crap! And Lehman is supposed to be there today” Before his complete name poured from the overhead speaker the third time, he had grabbed his briefcase, slipped smoothly out the door, and walked in a hurried pace down the hall with his white lab coat flowing behind him like a cape.

 

Inside the Sagan Meeting Room, Dr Nicholas Walker was impatiently glancing at his watch for the third time while drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair. Kurt Lehman arrived early to accommodate his overloaded schedule for the evening. He too was growing impatient and Walker was beginning to feel the tension growing thick in the air. He gave Lehman a reassuring but nervous smile and then said in a pacifying voice, “I'm sure he'll be here any second now” Lehman merely nodded without smiling back.

Everyone jumped when the door flew open and Dr Patel strode through it apologizing for his tardiness. Once the strain of the moment passed and all the greetings were out of the way, Nick called the meeting to order.

“As you all know this meeting is to report the current status of the project to our investors. Anyone who has contributed to the research and development of the EHM or any part of the Horizon Mission Project is welcome to attend. Kurt Michael Lehman has been the only investor to regularly join us and we welcome him again this afternoon”, Nick concluded looking in Lehman's direction. “I have not been made aware of any other attendees so I think we'll begin by uh...hearing from... let's see.. Dr Angie Hemmer?” he said questioningly giving her an 'are you ready to report' look that included raised brows.

“Sure Nick”, she said enthusiastically. “Trajectory coordinates, fuel and life support projections, and potential celestial event interference calculations are all verified and locked in. We have a possible issue with the cargo weight calculation but I am continuing to work on it”

Everyone in the room who had been made aware of the mysteriously completed cargo weight/propulsion equation tried to contain their obfuscation and to look at her as inconspicuously as possible so as not to alert Mr Lehman of any strange goings on. But all were trying to figure out why her report indicated a backslide. Dr Patel displayed a sort of 'half smile' as he instantly concluded that she too suspected Kurt Lehman of having hired someone to resolve the issue and was simply baiting Lehman to see if he would respond with some degree of surprise to this falsified statement. Sanjay couldn't resist looking back at Kurt in an attempt to read his facial expression for some sign of bewilderment. But he truly saw nothing. In fact, Lehman was taking notes on his tablet and didn't appear to flinch in the least bit.

After several seconds of silence, during which all of the team members shared momentary eye contact with each other, Dr Walker proceeded with a deep breath. Before the next words could pass from his mouth, Lehman interrupted.

“If I might quickly ask before moving on...” he said looking up from his note taking and leaning back in his chair. “Will this 'cargo weight issue' thing be completed in time to meet the launch date?” This question coming from Kurt Lehman had everyone in the room shifting in their seats. He definitely appeared to be concerned and had stated in a way that reflected a lack of knowledge on this particular subject. Nick looked at Angie raising a brow as if to say, it's in your lap now Ang.

“Absolutely.” she replied confidently. “I'm very close to a solution and should have it done by....hmm... I'd say next weekend.”

“OK.” Lehman said as if to just brush it off. He looked back to Walker and said “Sorry. Just wanted to clarify that. Continue.”

“No problem. Alright then... “ Nick said on an exhale “...thank you Dr Hemmer. We'll anxiously await your success on those final computations.” He turned his attention in the direction of Habib Tafik. “Habib... if you will”

“Sure Doc” Habib said through his still confused state. “All areas of programming have been checked and rechecked. Any bugs have been worked out and I would say that if we launched tomorrow... it would be flawless! BUT... I'd like to get a clarification of something from Dr Hemmer” he said twisting his chair a half turn to face Angie. “I thought...”

“Sorry Habib...” Walker said cutting off Tafik's comment  “...we don't have time for that right now. Ask her after the meeting if you would please.” Habib displayed a “Whatever!?!” look on his face as he rotated back to forward. At that moment, Sanjay began to feel as though Walker and Hemmer were collaborating on this Lehman ‘trip-up’ scheme. He was 100% in on it himself and decided to ignore the obvious ploy taking place before his eyes. Sanjay then reported an “all systems go” in his area of responsibility and the meeting was drawn to a close.

Once outside the room in the hallway, Lehman approached Nick and, with hands in pockets and tablet tucked under his right arm, posed a question.

“I know you're busy Nick but I have to get something straight before I leave here today” His German accent seemed heavier than normal. Nick immediately and excitedly jumped to a conclusion that this was going to be the damning remark that will link Kurt to the mysteriously solved weight issue. “Has there been any conclusive evidence regarding our entering the BH87 in regard to the massive gravitational force that will be exerted upon the hull of the EHM?” He paused a moment. “I guess what I'm getting at is...” he said taking a deep breath “...are we going to travel 64 million light years only to be crushed like a Coke can in a weightlifter's grip?”

Nick hid his disappointment at hearing the 'unexpected' query instead of the 'expected' one and adjusted his frame of mind in order to address Lehman's question with true resolve...and with a smile on his face.

“Kurt... none of us can truly say what will happen. But we do know this.... gravity is relative. It is not a compressing force. It is a force exerted from one body to another. We will undoubtedly be drawn forcefully towards the singularity. After that... who knows.” Once Dr Walker had finished with his answer he found himself staring directly eye to eye with Lehman. Both men had apparently drawn a fatal conclusion to that moment Nick had just described.

“Well....” Lehman said through an exhale. “I guess that's where courage of the unknown has to kick in...right?”

“No one has voluntarily propelled themselves into the vastness of space without wondering if they would live through it” Nick reassured. “But so far... most have survived” He started to step away from Kurt but hesitated and, with his head twisted back toward Kurt said, “Remember, you don't HAVE to go. You can back out of this anytime you want” He didn't wait to hear Kurt's response but did in fact hear him mumble something as they parted.

“Not exactly....”

 

 

Dr Walker rounded the corner just ahead of his office door only to see Dr Hemmer leaning against the door frame talking to Sanjay and Habib. As he drew near, the circle of colleagues opened slightly and he was offered a parking place in the conversation. Habib spoke to him with slight irritation.

“I'm telling you what boss, I was about to get real pissed in that meeting” he said “It felt like I was the only one who wasn't in on the...” he flashed an ‘air quotes’ “...'Catch Lehman in a lie' plot. Now I'm finding out from these two...” his head tilting towards the others “... I'm the only one who didn't think of this possibility on my own”  Nick offered a conciliatory smile and jokingly grabbed the back of Habib's neck with a slight shake.

“Trust me Tafik, we're all confused about the situation and looking for an answer” Nick assured the group. “I say at this point... we consider it a favor from above and move on. We're trying too hard to find a who and why when we should just say... who cares”

“Well I'm sorry, but I'm not going to just totally toss this out” Angie almost cautiously announced. “It was my area of responsibility and I know I'm not going nuts.... I didn't do it and I have to know who did”

“I have to admit...I'd feel the same” Dr Patel threw out.

“Just don't let it get in the way of your assigned tasks Ang” Nick said finishing up the conversation. “Now if you'll excuse me... I have things to do!” The group parted to let him pass and then scattered towards their individual offices in silence.

As she walked away, Dr Angie Hemmer made up her mind to stick around this evening long enough to have a talk with the janitor.

 

 

Mia Tilona was sitting at the far end of the bar with her usual Long Island Iced Tea. She was deep in thought about the events of the past week. She was also starting to realize the finality of her life due to her involvement in the Horizon Mission Team. She was literally less than a month away from possibly never standing on the surface of the Earth again. All she had worked towards in her life would culminate in that liftoff and then… become instantly useless. Her degree in jet propulsion and physics had earned her a place at MARCH. But never in a million years had she imagined she’d be asked to make the trip.

She turned her head slightly and scanned the entire room. All of these people will be long gone when and if I make it back, she thought. She returned to facing forward and stared at her reflection in the mirror between the rows of bottles behind the bar. Why am I doing this, she pondered. Her mind went momentarily blank just before she was interrupted.

“Hey... you OK?” the masculine voice of the person now occupying the seat next to her asked. She shook her head to bring her thoughts back into focus.

“Oh...yeah... just daydreaming”, she responded. She then broke into a huge smile and leaned over close to him and gave him a slow lingering kiss on the lips. “Hi” she said softly with her mouth still only millimeters from his and then lightly kissed him again.

“Well... I don't know what you were daydreaming about, but you need to think about it more frequently” Eric Mikos whispered back to her with an intentional sexy tone in his voice. They moved apart a few inches and smiled at each other. Eric loved the way her dark eyes and nearly pitch black hair accentuated her Italian olive complexion. Additionally, she was a workout freak. Her well toned muscles, tiny waist and overall perfect figure made Eric the envy of nearly all the men in the joint.

Her hand slipped up next to his temple and in a sensually slow manner started drawing small circles on the side of his head. Eric definitely felt aroused. He gently raised his hand up behind her head and drew her into another kiss... after which he suddenly backed off..

“Uh... ok...this is not what I need right before I go to work Mia” he reminded her with a chuckle and a cautious smile.

“I know” she replied apologetically. “But I just can't resist you every time I see you” They both realized the bartender was standing and watching part of this romantic interlude.

“Uhhh…can I get you something sir?” she asked.

“Just a Coke for me, thank you” Eric responded exercising restraint and responsibility... something that had finally been drilled into his unbridled mind via experience. Non-alcoholic drinks in bars was not a norm for him. But going to work with an elevated blood-alcohol content wasn’t either. He looked back at Mia and smiled again.

“Can we get together when you get off work? Even if it's just for an hour or so...” Mia pleaded. Eric's eyes wandered around her face for a moment and then drifted down to her hands. He took her left hand in his and began petting it.

“Sure. Why not.” he said reassuringly. “Your place...say.... around 6?”

“No. Now come on.”, she nearly scolded. “I think it's about time I get to see your place. We've been...” Eric cut her off.

“Mia! No. I told you my roommate made me commit to not bringing women over.” Eric reminded her. “He's afraid I'll bring someone who'll end up breaking in or something. It's his house. I have to abide by the rules. Sorry” She rolled her eyes and shook her head.

“I think he sounds paranoid”, she commented.

“Regardless. It's his house.”, Eric re-emphasized. He reached for the frosty glass of Coke that had now appeared on a coaster near his elbow. He began to drink down the carmel colored bubbly beverage but suddenly felt a hand cup around his and pull the glass to her lips. She took a sensuous sip while looking up through her lashes at Eric. His mouth curved up on one side and he realized just how lucky he was to have a woman like Mia.

For more than one reason.

Chapter Six

 

“The superior man understands what is right; the inferior man understands what will sell.”

                                                                                                                           -   Confucius

 

 

            August 3… one year earlier.

 

 

Kurt Lehman stood facing out the window of his office on the 30th floor of the Lehman-Coburn Building in lower Manhattan. His lawyer was expected at any moment. 'How deep was all of this going to go?' he asked himself. He questioned in his mind if it were possible that he would lose everything he had spent his entire life working toward. The unique idea he and his partner had spawned was born in Frankfurt as a legitimate and prosperous business venture. Come up with something no one else has ever made before, produce that product, sell it for a profit, bank the money, sleep at night. Simple enough. What made me change that process, he thought.

His eyes diverted to the street below. He watched as cars, buses, and trucks squeezed their way between buildings and each other. People crowding the sidewalks, scurrying like ants to their appointed destinations to do their appointed tasks. How many of them, he mused, knew what he had done? How many of them had DONE what he had done? Ever so tiny steps away from normalcy brings us to a point far from where we started. From where we originally wanted to go, he continued to ponder. And we wake up one sunny day staring in the mirror at someone we're unfamiliar with. He looked up and refocused on his own reflection in the window. Eyes looking into eyes for the first time in decades. Who am I, he thought.

Now looking past his reflection, he gazed out at the entire cityscape before him with a broader perspective and thought about the disaster he had bought his way into. With his hands dangling on the edges of his pant pockets, Kurt pondered what his life could've been...might have been... had he and Dieter Coburn not discovered their programming process that changed microchip data load capacity. He allowed himself to lean forward pressing his forehead against the cool glass.

“I am going to miss all of this”, he said out loud, his voice amplified by how close he was to the window.

Lehman had become one of those industry moguls in an industry not highly recognized by the public. KleinTek Inc was now indisputably the largest manufacturer of micro-technologies. Nearly every complex electronic device in the world today had some type of KleinTek circuitry, motherboard, or microchip in it. From cell phones to watches, laptops to jumbo jet guidance systems... KleinTek had crunched nearly every already existing technology down to its tiniest limit. What started out 15 years ago in a small office space in Germany, was now housed in over 35 buildings located in 20 cities around the world. Naturally, most of the production had by now been outsourced to China and only the assembly of final units was taking place outside China's borders. In spite of the repositioning of manufacturing, KleinTek still employed nearly 95,000 people worldwide and could claim to support another 15k to 17k personal household incomes through peripheral businesses. KleinTek's customer base was continually broadening as well and included some very unlikely clientele. But it wasn't until the U.S. Government joined the ranks of KleinTek customers that the troubles began. 

In an unfortunate twist of fate, KleinTek's development of micro technology in the area of ultra-high definition silicon photo pixilation, unknowingly connected them to a U.S./China conflict involving pictures taken of a highly classified secure area in Beijing. The unusually clear and sharply detailed photos taken from a U.S. Spy satellite were traced to the technology that China's Hangzhou Hikvision Digital Technology Company was manufacturing for KleinTek. This was, of course, covered in Hikvision's business contract with KleinTek which clearly stated that nothing they produce for KleinTek could be “used in or in assistance to the U.S. Government in the areas of external and/or international surveillance”. This demand was obviously sustained on both sides of the ocean. So it only made matters worse when the U.S. came out accusing KleinTek of allowing Chinese technology to be integrated into top secret military and CIA surveillance processes and equipment. This arose when the photos from 90 miles above Beijing somehow made it into the hands of the Chinese government. The logical conclusion was that this 'integration of technologies' was creating a security breach and if proven to be done with prior knowledge of its security issue, could constitute treason. The question had now become... were the 'unknowingly' and 'unintentional' parts truthful.

The overall take for KleinTek in these deals was upwards of $35 billion which made it hard to pass up regardless of the unforeseen consequences. Sure, Kurt knew he was beginning to swim in deep and muddy waters. But where there's no risk, there's no gain. Those risks had paid off financially. But the 'muddy waters' had started to swirl, thicken, and form a whirlpool that Kurt and KleinTek were caught in. Dieter Coburn had sold his half of the company to Kurt three years earlier and had stated that ‘he wasn't in agreement with the direction the company was headed’. Hence the whole thing was Kurt Lehman's to enjoy and to face. The visit from Lehman's lawyer was hopefully going to shed some light on the entire scenario... including those possible 'consequences'.

Kurt had just pulled his custom-made unbranded cell phone out of his pocket to check the time when the rap on the door pierced the silence of the office. Lehman touched an icon on his phone labeled 'security' which revealed several other icons. He touched the one titled 'OD'... office door. The lock clicked and the door then slid into the wall.

Harold Backman strolled onto the carpeted office floor with an attaché in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. He was finishing up an apparent conversation with Sarina, Kurt Lehman's personal assistant, as he walked in.

“Yeah... they will do that, those little buggers! Well thanks anyway Sarina. Appreciate it.” His last word was literally sliced off as the door slid out and latched closed. He silently strolled across the room circling the couch and landing in his usual spot. Harold Backman was one of those people who could wear a $20,000 Armani suit and still come off looking sleazy. With his gray hair poorly colorized to near black and slicked back in a pseudo Michael Douglas fashion, Harold had achieved more of a car salesman persona than that of a movie star or even a lawyer. His clean shaven squared off facial features still allowed him to deny his 53-year-old maturity and would, by most women's standards, garner a second look. The only thing working against him was his undeniably slouchy way of carrying himself and his annoyingly screechy voice that ultimately rubbed anyone he met, wrong. But alas, when one is driving a $150,000 customized Porsche, regardless of one's appearance or personality, one will score. And Harold did have beautiful women around him continually.

Once he was settled into the cushiony Haute House furniture piece, he leaned comfortably back with one hand on his crossed leg knee and the other arm stretched along the top edge of the sectional. He was clearly wearing a less than enthusiastic expression on his chiseled face and was in fact looking directly into Kurt's eyes while ever so slightly shaking his head. He released a puffed cheek breath. Kurt broke the eye contact and stepped to the mini bar near the south window. The sound of ice clinking into a glass followed by the unscrewing of a cap and liquid cracking the cubes as it poured, ricocheted off the wall and window.

“A morning libation Harold?” Kurt offered up still facing the city outside. He lifted his own glass to his lips and took a sip of the 30-year-old Glengoyne Scotch.

“Well... I'm not exactly in a celebratory mood boss and besides.... it's only 9:30”, Harold responded tilting his watch towards him. “But you might want to make yours a double, Bud”

“I'm not amused Mr. Backman.” Kurt said dryly still facing away from Harold.

“I'm not trying to be funny Kurt. You've got some serious shit coming at you” Harold said with an almost sarcastic tone. By this time Lehman had settled into his desk chair and had propped his crossed feet up on the edge of the glass desktop. He held his drink out towards Harold in a toast-like manner.

“Alright... then go ahead and paint the shitty picture Mr. Backman” he said preparing to hear the worst.

“Will you please cut with the 'Mr. Backman' crap. Remember...I'm on your side, Kurt” Harold snapped. He was flipping open a laptop drawn from the leather case. After tapping a few keys, he nodded towards Lehman's computer monitor positioned on the desktop.

“OK... what you're looking at on your screen right there is a copy of your phone call records dating back to the time the meetings with Hikvision were taking place” Harold offered in his best business law voice. “Obviously these records are simply proof that these phone calls took place and have no content to display. Hikvision, on the other hand, is claiming that on the phone conversation that lasted …” He paused while he searched for the call in question among the long list of dates and times “... ok, wait... there it is... 23 minutes and 18 seconds on the 19th of November, that you stated … quote, you would not have a problem with an unaltered prototype of the XO54101 Version 3.9 chip being present in the new photo cartridge that was going to be sold to the Pentagon, close quote”

“Doesn't that incriminate them as well? I don't understand why they'd...?” Kurt attempted to point out but was cut off by Backman holding a hand up.

“Hold on... let me finish. They then claim that they quote, said NO, we don't want to go there. That would cause dangerous friction between our two governments, close quote” Harold said. “That's what they say they said... and they claim to have a recording of it” When Harold stopped speaking, he looked Kurt over carefully to gauge his response.

“If they can in the least way prove that you knew about this whole thing before OR after it all came down, you're toast pal” Harold reminded Kurt. “We're talking treason bud. Serious shit.”

Kurt was caught in a hypnotic stare at the ice and remaining whiskey he was spinning around inside the glass he was holding. He wasn't smiling but at the same time he was not projecting any particular concern on his face. His thoughts had drifted back to a visit he made to Haiti in January of the previous year. It was publicized as a ‘ten years later’ humanitarian follow up to the earthquake and cholera epidemic that had devastated the tiny nation. Although Kurt was not much for living in the limelight and really wasn't the 'hit the trenches with the poor and needy' kind of guy either, he had suggested a visit to a developing nation as a 'gesture of good will' story to fan the flame of positive image to the public. Donations in the form of cash, food, healthcare needs and even some gifts for the children went far towards painting KleinTek and its management as a Company with Compassion.

In reality… the whole thing was a front. In order to 'seal the deal' with the Chinese and cover all aspects of the contract, he needed to make contact with a clandestine Chinese operative who was doubling as a rebuilding contractor in Cap Haitian. The connection's actual nationality was Croatian and his English was spot on, which allotted him credible anonymity in the midst of the multinational crews that had taken up station there for the past decade. Haiti's lagging technology and lack of electricity made it a perfect location for such a meeting as unexpected or nonchalant public security and surveillance became a non-issue. Kurt silently recollected his agreement to include and allow several micro devices in his “off the record” blueprints for the U.S. Government satellites in exchange for cash and investments that totaled up to $35 billion over a 5-year period. Why would he really care? He was truly German anyway.

He brought the ice spin to a sudden halt and, without moving a single muscle elsewhere, raised his eyes from the glass to just over the rim at Harold. He held that gaze for a full 10 seconds and then abruptly dropped his feet to the floor, set the glass gently on the crystal desktop, and stood up,

“Well Harold my friend...” he said with an exasperated breath. “…this is what you get paid the big bucks for. Fix it” He slipped his suit coat from off the chair back and, swinging it around while inserting one arm and then the other in one quick movement, headed for the door. A proximity sensor in his phone now slid the door open for Kurt and he spoke as he strode out. “We're done” he quipped.

“Hold on a second Kurt.” Harold threw out from his deep thought while hurriedly standing up. “Sometimes it just doesn't work like that bud. Besides, what aren't you telling me?” Harold was practically jogging to catch up to Lehman before he ‘got away’. “I get the feeling there's more to all this and I'll be damned if I'll sit in some deposition and have a U.S. attorney throw a major chunk of incriminating evidence at me that I didn't know existed” he said in an angry but tolerably loud voice. He was moving towards Lehman's back as he spoke. Kurt just shook his head and continued past Sarina’s area. Harold grabbed his shoulder to pull Kurt around to face him, but Kurt jerked forward out of Backman's grip.

Lehmann turned suddenly with eyes that could have burned a hole through solid steel.

“I can get another attorney MR BACKMAN if you don't feel qualified to handle this” he said through gritted teeth, emphasizing Harold's name. “Is that what you'd prefer?” Harold pursed his lips and rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. He’d hate to lose Kurt as a client. Backman’s clientele list read like a “Who’s Who” in the world of big money and Kurt was one of the biggest. He slowly shook his head.

“Of course not” Harold said with resolve.

Kurt turned and started walking away.

“Then FIX IT damn it!”, he growled as he continued on. He spoke without looking back. “Sarina, I'll be unavailable for the next 3 hours”

“Yes Mr. Lehman” Sarina dutifully replied.

 

 

As Kurt approached his Bentley Mulsanne, his recently hired new chauffeur, Gilbert Aaron, stepped up just ahead of him and pulled the door open. Kurt slipped into the back seat and instantly reclined it. There were only five slots in the executive parking area designated for himself, his secretary, his personal chauffeur, his financial manager, and the final space was reserved for his lawyer, Harold. Kurt was barely visible through the window of the luxury car and sat silently watching Harold Backman step up to and enter his Porsche.

“Where to, sir?” Gilbert asked politely while slightly stretching his neck to look at Kurt Lehman in the rear-view mirror. Kurt did not respond. Instead he was focused on Harold's 911 as it purred past the front of the Bentley. Harold stared back at him to the point of twisting his gaze back over his shoulder as he and his car slid out of view.

“Home. Just take me home Gilbert” Kurt said in a calm tone. He opened the center console and flipped up the built in pre-synced laptop and navigated to the private login page for MARCH. He selected the secure internal messaging page that had been setup specifically for investor communication and logged in. He began typing.

 

TO:  Dr Nicholas Walker

SUB: My demands

 

I'm afraid I'm going to have to up my demands in exchange for my generous contributions to your project. I am insisting on training with and joining your crew on your journey. Please do not refute this request on here, in an email, a text message, or even a phone call. We will need to meet in person if you wish to discuss this further.

 

Thank you, Kurt

 

Kurt knew Harold wasn’t going to be able to fix any of it. He clicked on “SEND” just as the car was gliding out the exit of the parking garage and into the Wall Street traffic.

 

 

Chapter Seven

 

             

                “The greatest lesson in life is to know that even fools are right sometimes”

 

• Winston Churchill

 

 

 

September 22…present time

 

 

It did not matter. Your favorite movie theme. The old rock song from the 70's. The replicated sound of an office desk phone. No matter how cute or well-loved it may be, it still becomes annoying over time and exceptionally annoying at the wrong time. So, when Nicholas Walker's selected ringtone of “Houston, we have a problem. Houston, we have a problem” started blaring repeatedly at 1:45am, his smart phone didn't seem too smart… nor too welcome. Struggling to free his arms from the blanket cocoon that had formed through his nightly ritual of tossing and turning, he became fearful he would miss the call. Finally, one limb broke loose and lunged at the now glowing device.

“Yeah... what's going on… and uh…?” he said in a very drowsy and confused sounding voice. Nick was fighting the unconsciousness that was still overpowering his focus. The screen from his phone was the only light in the pitch dark room and it now illuminated the side of his face. The caller’s name would be in the center of the screen but was rendered illegible without his glasses in place. “... who is this?” his pillow muffled voice finally stammered out.

“Nick... it’s me… Sanjay. I've made a significant discovery” the tinny sound of Sanjay's excited voice informed over the speaker of the iPhone. Nick pulled the phone away from his face far enough to look at the time. He moved it back and forth while squinting to bring it into focus. The whole event was made even more aggravating by the fact that Sanjay sounded wide awake and perky.

“Uh yeah... I'd have to say it better be important” Nick grumbled out.

“Trust me my friend... you need to get dressed and drive over here to 8118 Prager Dr right this moment...” Sanjay said with urgency. “.... and bring a couple boxes”

As the strangeness of this whole conversation began to register, Nick slid up into a sitting position and once again pulled the phone away from his face to look at it.

“Are you serious? Can't this wait? It's almost 2am for crap's sake!” Nick said with a bit of anger forming in his words.

“I'm dead serious... in fact so serious that I'll be calling Angie to come over here as well” Sanjay emphasized. “So hurry up.”

“Alright, alright... I'll be right there.” Nick replied with some reluctance. “Sanjay… WAIT! What was that address again?” Nick inquired holding his phone in the crook of his neck while grabbing a pad and pen to jot it all down. “Are you still there?”

“Yeah. I’m here. I hope you didn’t grab a pencil or pen” Sanjay laughed “I’ll text it to you, you goofball! And hey, really do bring a few boxes. Jaldi!” he quipped in Hindi and hung up.

 

 

Exactly sixteen miles from 8118 Prager Dr, slouched on a secondhand sofa that was sitting in the middle of the apartment's otherwise empty living room, Juan Sanchez stared intently at his cell phone. At this point he was only seven carrots away from moving to the next level of a bunny rabbit game app. He had downloaded it for his girlfriend’s daughter and while checking it out to make sure it wasn’t above her 6-year-old skill level, had become addicted to it. The tattoos on each of his dark-skinned arms seemed to come alive as his fingers moved and applied pressure on the Samsung phone screen.

Juan looked the part of a hired thug. In spite of repeated advice from many of his friends to NOT grow a beard because HIS beards just didn't look good, his current scraggly two weeks’ worth of growth was digging into his chest and contrasted interestingly against his silver gray Under Amour shirt. The shear length of his crossed legs made them look like strewn pick-up sticks aided by the fact they were pencil thin. His stomach-less mid-section melted into the crease between the back and the seat of the couch causing him to almost disappear in its worn-out mushiness. He snapped his head to one side occasionally in an effort to flip his unkempt greasy looking hair from in front of his eyes. Juan's chiseled, bony face reflected concentration and adjusted its expression with each challenge the game presented. He was focused to a degree that he had tuned out his compatriot calling from somewhere much deeper in the apartment.

“Did you hear me Juan??” Dalton Redgren shouted from a bedroom. He appeared in the hallway entrance with a grilling stare on his face. Dalton was six foot one inch tall and would have been almost as thin as Juan if it weren't for his pooch of a beer belly. His short blondish hair was just long enough to avoid being called a butch cut and his face looked like a slightly more serious version of Sargent Carter on Gomer Pyle. His voice was similar as well. “Juan!!”

Sanchez jumped forward completely startled, practically dropping his phone to the floor.

“Dammit Dalton!! You scared the shit out of me man!” Juan scolded in his Mexican accent. He pushed himself towards the forward edge of the cushion he was centered on and mumbled under his breath something about having messed up his game.

“I was trying to tell you that a bunch of the folks from that facility are gathering over in a house on Prager Dr.” Dalton informed his partner.

“Wait a second?!?” Juan stated with confusion in his voice while reaching over for his phone. “It's after 2 o’clock in the morning man?!? Prager Dr? What the....”

“Exactly. You remember who lives there, right? What IS going on?” Dalton replied as though stating the obvious. Juan robotically stood up from the couch as though a cable pulled him out of its engulfing chasm. He smoothly slipped his cell phone into his right back pocket before he spoke.

“Oh yeah. OH YEAH! I do remember! Soo… what should we do now Dee?” he asked using Dalton's nickname.

“We pay them an unseen visit my man” Dalton answered giving Juan a reassuring smack on the back. “Get your shoes on... like NOW! And then grab any 'equipment'...” that word being given with ‘air quotes’ “...you want to bring, take it down to the van and let's head over there.”

“You gonna call the boss on this one man?” Juan questioned. He was mostly wanting to cover their asses on this. But he also thought their 'boss' would find this all kind of interesting. He stepped into the bedroom to slip on his shoes.

“Already did dude! Already did.” Dalton confidently replied. “Grab that 9mm from under my pillow while you're in there”

Juan did as he was asked and the two men eventually made it outside, slammed the doors on the van, and took off.

 

 

Fortunately, the neighbors were all sound asleep and every other house on the block was dark. As Nick's silver BMW Z4 purred quietly up behind Angie's Range Rover along the curb, he noticed Sanjay's blue/green Porsche 718 Cayman that occupied the single lane driveway in front of the garage. The whole scene looked like a used car lot in Beverly Hills.

Most team members who were going to be passengers on the EHM had blown their life savings on anything and everything they had always wanted. Fearing they just might not return and considering those who were going on the Black Hole journey had little or no family to leave it to, it became the logical 'why the hell not' move. The logical and fun move in fact. Some had even taken out loans on these extravagances knowing full well they would not be around to make even all the payments... much less to pay off the balance. Now many of those exotic cars and the people who owned them were gathered at one tiny building in a not so extravagant part of town.

The small house located at 8118 was the obvious destination as it was the only house whose interior lights were lit throughout. Nick also took note of the MARCH Security vehicle parked in the opposite direction on the other side of the street and the plain white van that was about a half a block away on that same side.

He jogged briskly up the front porch steps to the door and knocked lightly on the six-panel gray painted surface. His mind was filled with questions and speculative answers as to what this was all about. Light splashed onto the lawn and into Nick's eyes as the now open doorway revealed a serious looking Sanjay Patel. Sanjay pivoted sideways allowing enough room for Nicholas Walker to squeeze past him and the tiny but well-kept living room was suddenly overcrowded with standing people.

“So... what is this all about and why are we...” his voice trailed off as his eyes froze on a face he recognized as the janitor. The MARCH facility janitor. “Hold on? We invited the janitor to this late-night major discovery meeting?” Nick queried. “I don't get it?!”

“No Dr Walker...” Pete McNally, head of MARCH security interjected. “This is HIS house” Nick's facial expression morphed into an 'Okay...wait a second. Now I'm starting to see what's going on here' sort of look. He searched through the faces for Angie's but didn't see it anywhere.

“Where's Dr Hemmer?” he asked. McNally tipped his head in the direction of a hallway while waving his hand for Dr Walker to follow him. Nick slipped between Sanjay and the janitor while staring down the sanitation engineer with a suspicious glare as he passed close by. Upon entering the bedroom his eyes not only beheld Angie seated at an elaborate computer screen array, but his head started swiveling around as he became overwhelmed by the charts, maps, photos, and diagrams that covered nearly every square inch of the walls and ceiling. All of it related to astrophysics and some of it appeared to be connected to the Horizon Project.

Angie spun around in the chair and, with a big smile on her face, threw her arms out fully extended with her hands palms up and simply said “Ta DA!!”

“What in the hell is this and what's going on here?” Nick asked in a now frustrated sounding tone.

“Don't you get it Dr Walker? We've found our mysterious weight problem solver!” She replied. Nick's initial deduction upon entering the living room, confronting McNally, and finding out they were in the janitors home was that the janitor had been working for some government entity or a competing private firm and had been stealing MARCH trade and research secrets. But now it all seemed less sinister and more of a personal endeavor on the part of the cleaning tech. Just then, the culprit stepped into the room behind Nick causing him to turn around in a startled glance. Angie spoke from her still seated position.

“Dr Nicholas Walker meet Eric Mikos. MARCH Facility janitor and aspiring astrophysicist.” she introduced and nearly chuckled. Nick wasn't sure if he should shake this character’s hand or grab him by the throat. After a millisecond of composure, he held his hand out and gave him a firm grip while even mustering a slight smile.

“Oh and by the way...” she continued, “...you might want to take a look at this” Dr Hemmer spun back towards the computer monitors, picked up a framed photo from off the desk, and then spun back towards Nick and Eric with the pic facing them in her outstretched hand. Nick Walker raised his chin slightly to bring the photo into bifocal range while slowly reaching up to grab its edge.

A sudden shift in facial expression found his mouth opening slightly and his brows furrowing a bit as he took in the crystal-clear photograph of Eric Mikos sitting on a park bench with Mia Tilona perched happily on his knee. Nick turned his head in Eric’s direction. A sheepish grin covered Eric’s face as he shrugged his shoulders.

 

 

The large awkward telephoto lens of the digital 35mm camera was barely sticking out of the partially rolled down window of the plain white van. Its silent shutter sponged up the images of the license plate numbers of the Beemer, the SUV and the 718. A touch of cigarette smoke wafted from the opening. The lens then moved ever so slightly and was now capturing the human forms that lined the bedroom and living room, all visible through the partially opened blinds. The van had slowly backed up to gain a more direct view of the interior of the home.

The top of the utility vehicle was equipped with a low profile multi-directional antenna/high sensitivity mic array that could pick up conversation through a wall with amazing clarity. Dalton and Juan sat quietly, each wearing sound cancelling headphones to assure that what they were listening to was coming from the target. Suddenly the two men looked at each other as they both detected closure to the meeting inside the frame house based on comments they had just heard.

“Let's get the hell out of here”, Dalton said quietly. Juan nodded in agreement with his hands locked onto the steering wheel. It took him only a couple of seconds to fire up the engine and make a slow inconspicuous departure. Dalton looked back towards Eric's house to confirm that they had not been observed by the now exiting occupants. He barely smiled and flipped his cigarette butt out the window crack as the van accelerated away.

Chapter Eight

 

          

                “He who cannot stand the heat should stay out of the kitchen”

 

• Harry S. Truman

 

 

 

Morning of September 24…present time

 

 

The huge meeting room table stretched out like an airport runway before Eric. The parabolic lighting performed its intended duty by casting a warm and indirect glow to the entire room. His surroundings had a futuristic and space-like feel which Eric was certain the architect and designer had envisioned. A clock/intercom/video security panel was smoothly embedded in the wall near the door and screamed out the current time from its blue lighted characters. 0858. Two minutes from his appointed ‘trial’ time.

The empty chairs lining the massive wooden slab before him each represented an interrogator he’d shortly be facing. He wasn’t quite sure what to expect from this meeting. Would he face espionage charges? Would they throw at him evidence he had forgotten about? Or would they smile and say, You should’ve said something to us about your extensive astrophysics knowledge earlier!

Deep inside, a feeling of confidence was emerging giving him the impression that he had nothing to fear. But that ‘confidence’ was suddenly shattered as his mind began sifting through piles of papers and books he had left lying about his home. Had he sloppily left something that was truly incriminating sitting out in plain view? Eric’s head fell forward propped by his hand pressing against his forehead. He lapsed into a deep concentration attempting to retrace his actions over the past seven to ten days. By remembering these things, he could at least have some kind of explanation or excuse prepared. It all seemed a blur to him at this point. So much had transpired and it felt nearly impossible to recollect actual activities and separate them from things he had merely procured through scientific deduction.

“Think Eric think!” he whispered in a barely audible voice. His hand tightened on his forehead as his teeth gritted and his entire body tensed. He caught his reflection in the shiny surface of the table. The stubble that had developed on his chin made him realize just how much he looked like his father.

His father. He had forgotten about that aspect of this event.

There was the possibility that this whole incident could somehow trickle back to Eric’s father, which would only cement Stefan’s negative image of Eric. Why he had allowed himself to become tangled in such a mess was beyond him. And what about Mia? She would more than likely be suspected of direct involvement. It would be tragic if she were, Eric thought. She was, in fact, completely innocent to any of his actions. In recent days, just prior to this expose’, Eric had been deeply reviewing the way he felt about Mia. She was cute, funny, extremely smart, and very self-confident. It would be nearly impossible for her to still find interest in him after this debacle. This was simply meant to be nothing more than his own personal plan to re-launch his previously self-destroyed astrophysics career. Get a lesser job at the right place and BAM… spring it on them that you have the brain of Einstein and Hawking combined…blah blah blah. Okay… it’s not bad plan. He just had not done it that way. Springing on them how smart you are is one thing. Infiltrating their systems and making unauthorized changes to….

Eric’s head jerked up as his eyes locked onto the doorknob. It was beginning to move and Eric could hear the muffled sound of conversation just beyond the doors’ barrier. He was about to face the people who would hold his fate in their hands. Clearing his head of anything unrelated to this moment would give him more focus. It was a technique Eric used for his college exams. Once it was done, he took a deep breath.

The door cracked about an inch or two and the external conversation became clear and understood. Sanjay Patel was laughing with Mia who was saying something about body odor in a confined area. As the laughter died down, Eric heard the tail end of a comment from Dr Hemmer that more than likely referred to himself and was something to the effect of… “I thought he seemed too bright for a janitor”. Nick Walker then sounded as though he was attempting to subdue the jovial atmosphere by quietly reminding everyone in the hall of the importance of this tribunal and the door was then once again pulled closed just short of latching.

Muffled conversation resumed until, after about 20 seconds, the group began filing in with each giving a superficial smile as they greeted Eric. Mia appeared to avoid eye contact directing her gaze toward the path ahead of her. Before Pete McNally had closed the door behind the final entrant, Eric caught a glimpse of Trey leaning against the hallway wall. He was pretty sure Trey hadn’t seen him but figured he had taken part in the pre-meeting dialog and thereby knew something of the whole mess. A moment later, all were in their obviously appointed seats and Dr Walker reviewed the gathering from the head of the table. In addition to Eric, who was exactly opposite Walker… Habib, Angie, Sanjay, Pete, and intentionally positioned as far from Eric as possible, Mia… were all in attendance.

“I will begin by asking if there is anyone here who is not aware of what this meeting is about.” Nick queried while scanning the faces of all present. A hand appeared barely above the far end of the table with fingers wiggling and the owners head shaking. It was, of course, Eric. “Seriously Eric?? You’ve done what you’ve done and yet you’ve no clue why you’re here??” Dr Walker questioned accusingly.

“Of course I understand I’ve done something wrong, Dr Walker. I understand there will be consequences. But as to whom those consequential actions will emanate is what I don’t yet understand. Thereby, I can truly say, that I’m not completely queued in as to what I’m here for”, Eric said in a somewhat sarcastic manner. “I would guess I’m going to be fired. I might even be carted off to prison or something. But is all of this…” he said waving his hand in a sweeping motion at the attendees encompassing the table, “…some kind of conclusory panel brought together to decide what I should get paid for my…contribution… to… the project?” His statement trailed off in a cautionary manner and his facial expression radiated a silly ‘I don’t get it’ look as his shoulders shrugged. A couple of suppressed chuckles could be detected with hand covered mouths belying a smile. But all fought to remain serious in demeanor.

“Very funny Eric” Nick said dryly. “But not very funny”

“May I say something Dr Walker?” Mia probed. All eyes turned in her direction including Eric’s. No doubt everyone’s thoughts could only speculate what was about to be said. Dr Walker’s pursed lip glare in her direction screamed ‘NOT NOW!’

“Mia, hold on… please” Nick addressed her, holding a single finger up. “We’ll circle the table making sure everyone has the opportunity to ask or state what’s on their mind… OK?”, he assured

“Yeah… OK” she conceded, nodding with some frustration in her retreat.

Nick returned his focus in Eric’s direction and continued. “Well Mr Mikos. Allow me to give you a vivid description of what you’re being ‘called on the carpet’ for” He folded his arms as the weight of his 6’ frame rocked back fully onto the springs of the chair and one leg crossed up over the knee of the other. He was now viewing Eric through his glasses that were really prescribed for much nearer use. He continued.

“The concern we have is not so much what you did IN this building as much as it is about what you took out of this building. MARCH has spent literally millions of dollars to safeguard its facility and the information and equipment developed within it. I would venture to say that… uh… you, Mr Mikos, have not spent that much on securing your home? Am I right?” Nick’s question caused the entire circle to cast a gaze, obvious or not, in Eric’s direction. As one fully versed in MARCH’s security complexities, Pete McNally rolled his eyes.

Eric appeared visibly assailed and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He knew very well where this was going and had no snippy comeback to offer. Several in the room were struck with a sudden recognition of Nick Walkers assertive management qualities. It was vividly clear that he knew his responsibilities as administrator and how to address these issues.

“Just how do you think dozens of people who have dedicated nearly 12 years of their lives working tirelessly to achieve a dream… a dream that requires extensive confidentiality and security by the way… feel after finding out someone betrayed that effort in one fell swoop?” Nick said with the voice of a parent endeavoring to instill an ideal in their child. “You had some of our most treasured and intimate corporate secrets plastered all over the walls and ceiling of your bedroom. Diagrams, computations, launch and target coordinates, and personal communication information that involved years of hard work.”

Although everyone’s attention was trained on the two individuals engaged in this important examination, an abrupt movement by Officer McNally distracted them from the center stage. He too had had his arms folded and was rocked back. But an unexpected and quick bolt to an upright position, unfolding of his arms and raising a hand up to stifle any further sound from the group, put everyone on the alert. His ear was aimed, like a sound-sensitive mic, at the door and his blank stare forward indicated a focus of attention on a sense other than sight. The scientists all had a puzzled look on their faces. The room became dead quiet as Pete slowly rose from his seat and stepped stealthily towards the door. Before anyone could take a second breath, he snapped the door handle and swung it open enough to lean his head out and quickly glance in both directions.

Now convinced he had missed whoever it was that had been eavesdropping, he released a breath and resumed normal movement by softly closing the door and returning to his chair.

“There was definitely someone out there a minute or two ago”, he stated to his co-workers in order to justify his interruption. “You can continue Dr Walker. Sorry” he assured with an authorizing flip of his hand.

“Quite alright Pete. In fact, that right there…” Nick said swinging his hand out from his chin in order to point at Pete McNally, “…is essentially what this is all about Eric. Doesn’t it seem an unfortunate waste of time for Mr McNally to exercise such cautious protective measures when everything he’s trying to protect is stapled to the walls of an employee’s home?”

“Doesn’t it seem an unfortunate waste of money though, to pay Mr McNally if I was able to get that far with your precious secrets”. Eric quipped back, carefully refraining from making it sound too sarcastic and insulting.

“Why you smart ass little…” Pete began while even threateningly rising up from his seat. He was pushed back by an outstretched arm from Dr Patel who softly said, “Take it easy Pete. Don’t let him get to you my friend”

The room fell into silence for about 10 very LONG seconds.

“Are you gonna let him get away with that Doc?” Pete questioned angrily in Nicks direction. Nick simply held his hand up to shush any further criticism.

Dr Walker turned to Angie and said, “Do have anything you want to ask Eric or any comments or observations you wish to present here?”

Dr Hemmer had her right elbow resting against her folded left arm while gliding a painted fingernail back and forth along the top edge of her bottom row of teeth. It was apparent she had been taking in everything that had transpired over the past 10 minutes or so and was ready to interject her perspective. She shifted her overall body position, brought her hands down on the table with a light slap, and released a breath of frustration. As second in command, she knew the power she carried but rarely employed. It wasn’t her style to ‘step on toes’ so-to-speak, but this was one of those rare moments she needed to exert her authority. She ‘drum rolled’ the fingernails of both her hands loudly on the table top a couple times and then spoke.

“Well… I would like to excuse everyone from the room except Dr Walker and Eric and address them privately”, she said without apology or question. Immediately, chatter arose among the others with things such as “Wait? What did she just say?” and “Hold it? I thought we were all going to get to say something?” being heard.

Oddly, Mia remained silent and simply turned to face Eric for a moment. She then became the first to cooperate with Dr Hemmer’s request by sliding herself back from the table, which she did without breaking her stolid eye contact with Eric. She then snapped her head around towards the door and walked away. Eric felt a pain in his heart and weakness in his knees and legs as Mia slipped through the meeting room portal. It took everything he had inside him to not call out, Hold it! Mia, please come back in! I’m so sorry! Instead he closed his eyes and lowered his head as the real damage of his actions was beginning to amass in his mind. Mia’s move prompted the rest of the attendees to rise and do the same and within moments, the room contained only three occupants.

 

 

In a locked janitorial storage room on the opposite side of the facility, Trey Walker sat with his iPhone cradled in both hands as his thumbs busied about the screen. He paused a moment as the smart phone began playing an audio file recorded only a few minutes ago.

“…some of our most treasured and intimate corporate secrets plastered all over the walls and ceiling of your bedroom” the tinny distant sound of his Uncle Nick’s voice replayed from the phone’s tiny speaker. His thumb made a sudden movement to prevent any further playback. He glanced around nervously to see if anyone had been near enough to hear the recording.

Once his attention returned to the electronic device, he selected his email app and opened an outgoing mail message screen. He then touched the ATTACHMENT icon and navigated to the folder where the ‘meeting room’ audio file was stored, selected it and watched it populate the ATTACHED field. Next, he chose an address from his address book and watched as it filled the ‘TO:’ field of the message. He then positioned the cursor in the ‘SUBJECT’ field and typed ‘E.M. Meeting’. He then typed “UNFORTUNATELY SOMEONE CAME TO THE DOOR AND STOPPED ME FROM GETTING ANYMORE THAN THIS’ and hit SEND.

He stared intently for several seconds and watched as a window finally popped up stating ‘MESSAGE SUCCESSFULLY SENT TO… KHL@KTI.DE’ One side of his mouth raised in a nervous half-smile and he promptly slipped his phone into a zippered pocket in his coveralls. He then removed the Bluetooth mini-microphone from his side pocket and stuffed it under some rags on the upper shelf of an unused locker. Closing the locker gently, he stepped over to grab a mop and mop bucket and proudly shuffled off to the kitchen area to get a head start on the evenings cleaning.

 

 

No sooner than Pete McNally had pulled the door closed behind him, Angie adjusted her position once again in order to aim directly at Eric.

“Eric. Look at me,” Angie requested. Eric lifted his head and looked directly at the physicist. “Why did you come to work here? And before you answer… I want you to know that I’ve spent the entire morning prior to this meeting digging into your past.”

“Then it’s probably pretty obvious isn’t it?” Eric replied. “Major screw up of a physics student gets booted out of school and then has to find some other way to pursue a job in his chosen field. Not a completely unfamiliar story I’d imagine” He was a bit less lazed and appeared as though he was starting to become concerned. But he had managed to deliver that line behind a façade of confidence.

“What you did with that weight to propulsion and fuel use ratio calculation was brilliant Eric” Nick interjected. “Dr Hemmer was… well…becoming…uh…” Angie was watching Walker stumble on this trying not to insult her. She jumped in finishing Nick’s sentence.

“Hey…seriously…just say it Doctor. I was stumped” She quickly turned back towards Eric. “But why the mystery? Why didn’t you just apply as a physics student?”

“You weren’t looking for one,” Eric retorted briskly. “How do you get into the place you want to work at when they don’t need you? Be the person they need!” Nick and Angie looked at each other and shrugged their shoulders as if to say ‘Makes sense to me!?!’

Angie looked back at Eric and said, “Hold on a second Eric.” She scooted in her rolling chair around the corner of the table to get next to Nick and then leaned towards him to whisper into his ear.

“I’m OK with what we discussed earlier this morning if you are,” she said in an almost inaudible voice. Dr Walker simply nodded in reply. Angie then scooted back to her original spot. She paused to think about her next question.

“What is your personal life like Eric?” she asked. “From what I gleaned off the internet you’re single and have only a father for family.”

“Why? Are you interested?” Eric replied with a sheepish grin. Dr Hemmer tilted her head to one side and folded her arms tightly in front of her. She wasn’t smiling.

“OK. I admit…that was out of place” he acknowledged. “Correct. Just me and my dad. I’m not married and not a dad myself, to the best of my knowledge. Pretty much single and…well… probably now I’m available.” The last part was stated rolling his eyes while rocking his head back and forth. The insinuation was obviously directed at his potentially VERY recently slammed relationship with Mia.

Angie turned to Nick who raised his brows to convey ‘keep going’. Her next comment needed to be carefully thought out so as not to make Eric feel as though he had been exonerated from his wrongdoings. She decided to begin with a question.

“What do you think we should do with you Eric?” she asked keeping her eyes firmly locked on his. Eric shifted in his seat without breaking their connected gaze. Even though several comical but truthful responses zipped through his head, he chose to take on the “job interview seriousness” he was so good at faking.

“Honestly, I'd like to work here in the capacity of an astrophysicist,” he responded. “I know what I've done should be unforgivable, but I didn't share the information with anyone else… that I can promise you.” This statement was followed by a long uncomfortable silence with Nick and Angie looking at each other and then back at Eric.

“Keep going” Angie demanded. “I want you to bare your soul right now Eric Mikos”. Another pause so still and silent you could hear Eric’s tongue wetting his lips. Now he was REALLY getting nervous!

“This whole thing was thought out. Nothing that happened over the past few months was accidental or spontaneous.” Eric finally continued. “I knew I had blown my opportunity to achieve my life’s dream of becoming a recognized and respected astrophysicist when I was booted out of Stanford. But admittedly, it only took me a few minutes to formulate a plan on how to… how should I say this… “sneak my way” back into the field wherein my talent lies.”

Nick looked down at his lap while running the fingers of his left hand through his hair and releasing what was clearly a breath of exasperation. This drew Angie’s attention and she appeared to stare at him in search of where he stood at this moment.

“Honestly Eric,” Nick started “Dr Hemmer and I would in fact like to see you come on board here at MARCH. Your solution to the EHM weight ratio issue was brilliant and by itself…” He stumbled and searched for a way to express his next thought. “I guess what I’m saying is… that alone qualified you in our minds.” His last comment was accompanied by quick tiny nods and a glance in Angie’s direction in search of an agreement confirmation, which she gave.

It now crossed Nick’s mind to be careful not to give Eric a big head. Too much praise heaped on a person who basically connived his way into this ‘interview’ would possibly encourage further such actions.

He continued, “There is a ‘BUT’ to this. You’re entering this project so near its launch date and in such an unorthodox manner, that we have limited opportunity and use for you. We…” He wagged a finger back and forth between Angie and himself. “…both feel the best place for you is to work under Mia” He stopped suddenly realizing what he had just said. He looked at Eric who had raised a hand to his mouth in an effort to hide a smile and silent gut laugh. “OKAY!! I need to word that differently considering who I’m talking about.” he corrected himself with a bit of a chuckle. “I mean… work as one of Mia’s team members” Nick said with grammatic clarity and smiling. All three started to laugh.

Moments later, Dr Walker stood holding the door open for everyone else to file in. Amidst the conversations that were starting to thin down, words like ‘scary’ and ‘I think I’ll miss…’ were easily discerned in the banter. Once each of the group had taken their places, Nick stepped to the head of the table and grasped the upper edge of his chair back.

“Dr Hemmer and I have something we would like to share with you. But before we take it to that point, I feel I owe all of you an opportunity to ask Eric those questions I promised you” he said. “How about we just work around the table clockwise beginning with…” Nick turned slightly to his left and gestured with both hands to Sanjay “… Dr Patel! The floor is yours doctor” Sanjay nodded thanks and clearly began thinking deeply about what he’d like to ask Eric.

“Sooo… you’re a physicist? Am I correct?” Eric started to nod a tiny bit.

“Well not exactly” Eric was struggling with how he should word this. “Let’s just say I was well on my way to being a physicist. I had… disciplinary issues and was kicked out of Stanford”

“So essentially, the disciplinary issues haven’t been resolved? Dr Patel said with a touch of irony in his voice.

 

 

 

Chapter Nine

                “When you know what a man wants, you know who he is and how to move him”

 

• George R. R. Martin

 

 

 

September 26…present time

 

 

The right of the two exceptionally large heavy ‘British Castle’ looking doors, creaked ever so slightly as it was unhurriedly opened by the butler. The hired servant looked exactly as you would expect a man in his position to look... waist coat and tails with the usual bowtie, suit pants, and patent leather shoes. It was as though he had stepped right out of a Dickens novel. His rather stuffy appearance led one to assume a long-term tenure in Lehman’s employ… and one would be correct in that assumption. Jarvis, as he was known, had worked diligently for nearly 20 years in the Lehman household and his services spanned more than one generation. He took several steps backwards as he addressed the visitor. The man passing through the doorway expressed his thanks for being let in. He couldn’t help but notice the scent of exquisite chef prepared cuisine assaulting his olfactory. His brows rose a bit in approval.

“I believe Mr. Lehman is expecting you sir.” Jarvis announced in very proper English and a noticeable British accent. The gentleman’s gentleman obviously recognized his guest. “If you would follow me, he will be joining you in the library.” This he requested as he gently swung the massive door closed and began walking across the spacious foyer.

 Jarvis’s shoes, along with that of the visitor, caused a harmonizing tapping who’s echo seemed to greatly expand the size of the entryway. Once they passed from that area into the hallway, their walking was instantly silenced due to lavish streamer rugs that stretched down the center of the marble floor. Beautiful furnishings of chairs, tables, and statuette filled curio cabinets lined the walls, with Tiffany lamps and other rich garnishments spotting the tops of each piece. The paintings, that were meticulously hung, all had the appearance of museum pieces and accented the décor perfectly. The entire scene was, in fact, a bit ‘oldish’ looking but certainly wreaked of money.

Jarvis paused and turned around to swing open a door in the hall while sweeping his hand in front of himself in the direction of the doorway.

“Step in here and have a seat if you would please sir and Mr. Lehman will be with you shortly. As you already know, my name is Jarvis, and I am at your complete disposal. Simply press that button over there,” he pointed toward the side of one of the bookshelves, “on the bookshelf if you need anything at all.” He made a slight bowing gesture, smiled, and exited, closing the door behind him. Trey Walker was now in the room alone.

An eternally long 5 minutes after Jarvis had stepped out of the room, Kurt Lehman opened the door to enter. He hesitated a moment at the threshold and peered back into the hallway.

“JARVIS!”, Lehman shouted. Trey chanced a glimpse in the direction of the ‘Jarvis’ button, which he was pretty sure had been installed to curb such outbursts. There was a short pause followed by some whispering between Lehman and Jarvis. The door was closed and Lehman spanned the room in several long confident strides, of course, in the direction of the bar.

“Are you of age for an alcoholic beverage, Mr Walker?” Lehman questioned with his back facing Trey, who rolled his eyes and shook his head at the billionaires back. At 28 he felt as though he easily passed for ‘over 21’ in most bar and liquor store settings. The comment came off as an insult to Trey, although he resisted any indication of such. It did que him in as to just where he stood in the mind of this ruthless character standing before him. He was nothing more than a ‘child trying to get something from Daddy’.

“Yes sir. A scotch on the rocks will be fine.” Trey responded, concealing his complete contempt for the age remark and adding in a lowered tone in his voice. The sound of the cap being spun back onto the bottle signaled the last procedure at the bar and Kurt pivoted, holding two identical glasses containing a couple of ice cubes and approximately two fingers of the precious golden liquid in each. As the beautiful Asian rug covering the center of the floor muffled Lehman’s steps, the only sound was the ice tinkling against the sides of the crystal tumblers. Lehman extended the selected drink in Trey’s direction and then took a seat across the coffee table opposite the younger man. He raised his glass in a toast-like manner which was mirrored by Trey. Lehman swooped his drink from toast directly to his lips, took a respectful silent sip, and then spoke immediately following the swallow.

“So here you are all prepared to skewer your uncle, Trey!” His tone was somewhat celebratory. Trey could tell exactly what this statement was meant to do. It pierced the very center of his soul and made him instantly feel like the back stabbing nephew he was aspiring to be. The hand holding his libation slowly dropped to his lap while his captured gaze into Lehman’s eyes became steely. ‘He’s trying to see if I’ll retreat in the face of such an accusation’, Trey thought. ‘I’ll show him what I’m made of’. He shifted his mood suddenly, raised his brow, and smiled.

“Maybe ‘skewer’ is a bit harsh, Mr Lehman,” Trey said light heartedly. “I believe ‘take advantage of’ might better apply.” He punctuated the statement by swigging down the last of the fine whiskey, setting his glass smoothly down onto a coaster on the coffee table, and then sleazing back into the corner of the couch in a somewhat ‘cool and collected’ manner.

“Whatever makes you feel less guilty my friend.” Lehman almost murmured. “But none of this is what you’re here for. Let us not digress.” He stood and scooped up Trey’s empty and stepped over to the bar once again. Without asking permission this time, he added a cube or two to both receptacles and refilled them with his beloved Glengoyne. After placing Trey’s drink back on its coaster, Kurt stepped over to a massive desk set perfectly against the rounded corner of the shelving and lit only by a gold stemmed green canopied Banker’s lamp. He picked up a remote and pointed it across the room. Trey was watching all of this and quickly turned to see what Lehman was aiming at.

A large section of the bookshelf sunk backwards into the wall, slid to the side, and an LED TV measuring at least 80” moved quietly forward. The surface flicked to life with the words ‘KleinTek Inc’ spanning it and then they faded away. Trey began trying to predict what he was about to see. Something to do with the EHM? The history of KleinTek? Kurt’s baby pictures? He couldn’t have been more off base.

Once the picture brightened to its fullest, young Walker was staring at an array of video camera shots from various locations throughout the MARCH facility! He rose slightly from his slouched position as his eyes widened and his head pivoted to look back towards Lehman.

Chapter Ten

 

                “The older I get the less I listen to what people say and the more I watch what they do”

 

• Andrew Carnegie

 

 

 

September 27…present time

 

 

The comfortable night breeze blew over Dr Nicholas Walker’s face as he strolled slowly beneath the EHM. The sound of several crickets chirping caused him to pause and consider the sharp contrast between the marvels of nature that surrounded the MARCH facility and the marvel of man’s achievement that stretched before him. With his arm extended above him, his hand was dragging over its sleek, smooth surface and a giddy feeling overcame him as he thought of how long this had been in the making. His mind drifted back to when the very first idea of this ship had popped into his head. He felt a certain pride in regard to his accomplishments within this sphere. Years of dreams, studying, research… all of his own volition, in addition to all those whom he could thank for having encouraged him to never quit forging ahead. His parents. Many of his colleagues. Even his ex, who left him because of his obsession with the project told him as she walked out the door… “Nick, things between us may not have worked out, but I’m positive you are going to reach the stars”. Slam! It would’ve been difficult to associate with him and not realize his conviction to his vision.

Now, Nick Walker was in the presence of his dream. Slipping beneath the skin of his fingers was the shiny slick surface of the culmination of years of determination and his persistence and that vision. Its size alone was awe inspiring. But more impressive was the overall appearance of the vessel. True, its coated exterior gave it a futuristic appearance as it had an almost metal flake glimmer to it. But the downward turned adjustable ‘Concorde Jet’ style nose cone made the EHM take on a pseudo futuristic look.

The Event Horizon Module was a carefully planned multi-enviro spacecraft and had been designed with ‘probabilities’ in mind. Without knowing what lied ahead, the EHM engineers had taken into consideration the possibility that somewhere out there, the crew just might need to do an atmospherically restricted landing. This would require aerodynamic wings consistent with that of an earthly airplane. Better to have and not need, than to need and not have, was the thinking.

As with the nose cone, the wings and vertical tail stabilizer had a certain amount of adjustability, that of extension and retraction. This too was a feature that had been ‘inspired’ by a number of other aircraft including the F-111, the F-14 Tomcat, and several other international military planes. A design that was now nearly obsolete in fighter jets, had gained a very purposeful application in regard to the EHM. It allowed for as little drag as possible upon liftoff through atmospheric restriction, insured less structural stress on the wing and tail skeleton that otherwise would not endure liftoff speeds, and it eliminated the need for heat plating on the wings and tail’s skin as they could be retracted during initial high heat atmospheric re-entry. All this while still providing stable flight capabilities within dense air conditions when the wings and tail were extended. It was very feasible that NONE of these features would be used or needed. But once again… better to have and not need.

The overall shape of the craft was a flattened tubular fuselage with window portals along the side and the cockpit windshield facing forward. It was futuristic looking while still oddly resembling those string suspended ‘spaceships’ in the cheesy sci-fi movies of the 50’s and 60’s. The EHM was already mounted atop a 25 story tall booster rocket assembly that would propel it out of earth’s atmosphere and into history. All of this was significantly larger than the previous space shot modules of the past.

The completed assembly of rocket stages and manned module now lay on its side on a rail system beneath an impossibly huge hangar-like structure designed to allow for weather free construction and fabrication.

Nick stepped back looking it over with stylus and tablet in hand taking notes regarding those items he had spotted that would later transform into questions for the engineers and workers. In an almost “cowboy slipping his gun into his holster” fashion, the scientist flipped the tablet up under his arm and turned to head back to his office and then home. As he spun around, he was startled as he came face to face with Trey, his nephew.

“Whoa! I didn’t hear you walk up AT ALL!” Nick said slapping his hand onto Trey’s shoulder. Leaving his hand where it had landed, he turned to face the EHM once more to share the admiration with the young man. “It never fails to blow me away every time I see it” he said towards the massive craft.

“No doubt Uncle Nick. It is incredible.” Trey replied in a solemn voice, now gazing upward at the EHM’s horizontal stabilizer above them. Trey broke from his ‘spacecraft’ admiration ahead of Dr Walker and then slowly and unnoticeably looked at the side of his uncle’s face, taking note of the pride beaming from the elder man. It was Trey who pierced the silence.

“Um… Uncle Nick? I need to ask you about something” Nick slightly shook his head to snap out of the daydream he had drifted into.

“Certainly Trey… I’m sorry I distracted you… what can I do you for?” he mumbled apologetically. Trey was now gazing down at his shoes appearing reluctant to address whatever it was he had approached Nick about. Nick’s head was now tilted sideways in an attempt to dip under Trey’s downturned stare.

“Well…” Trey took a big breath and then exhaled loudly. “I guess I want you to know I’m not trying to get anyone in trouble or anything like that…” Nick turned facing Trey with a slightly furrowed brow and nodded a bit as if to say ‘Go on’.

“… but I’m sure you know the guy I work with in sanitation… Eric” Trey continued. His uncle, who was now caught in an interested stare at the youth, gave a few tiny quick assuring nods which additionally said ‘Keep going’. With the recent events surrounding Eric including his own and Angie’s decision to elevate him to a member of the design and launch team, Nick’s interest was peaked. Exactly what Trey was hoping for.

“So… I overheard Dr Patel and Habib talking about something like ‘all the project related material that was confiscated from Eric’s house’ and I was like… WHAT!?! Wait a damn second?!?” Trey lied convincingly. He chuckled a bit with his hands palm up in front of him. Nick folded his arms defensively across his chest, pursed his lips and swallowed trying to think how far he wanted to let this go. He was on the understanding that Trey had no knowledge of any details regarding Eric’s illegal and unauthorized meddling in the project. Not knowing exactly what point Trey was trying to make with all this, he interrupted him.

“Trey, are you simply wanting to know what all of that is about? Because if that’s where you’re headed…” Trey began shaking his head emphatically.

“No Uncle Nick, that’s not it at all. It’s just that their conversation might have made me think a little differently about something I’ve seen a few times now.” The younger man shifted his weight from one leg to the other and now crossed his arms over his chest as well. He made sure to recount his well-rehearsed script he himself had concocted.

“Three times in three different places I’ve seen Eric talking to Kurt Lehman. It just seemed weird that a janitor would be holding a lengthy and I guess, what appeared to be, a very deep conversation with a world-renowned billionaire.”

The expression wiped from Dr Walker’s face like a sandcastle washed away in a wave. His mind began recollecting all the events of the past few days and how the newfound revelation from Trey rearranged it. Could Eric actually be working for Kurt? This could explain… Nick caught himself staring forward at nothing. Don’t jump to conclusions… he shouted at himself inwardly.

Trey could glean from Dr Walkers face that he was achieving his desired results.

“I’m sure Eric simply saw some opportunities to ‘pick the brain’ of a very rich man for some …” Nick started. Trey cut him off.

“Um… but it wasn’t like that, Uncle Nick. I mean one of those times might’ve been that way. But the other two times definitely weren’t.” Trey interjected.

“I don’t get it. What do you mean by that Trey?” Nick inquired, becoming more quizzical in his expression.

“Well, the first time I saw them talking they were standing just outside the exit to Lot B over by the employee smoking area. You know where I’m talking about?” Nick gave a few barely perceptible nods. “But the next time I watched him climb into Kurt’s Bentley late at night. He stayed in there for… uh… I’d say around an hour.” Nicks brow raised.

“And the third time?” Nick queried, now with a furrowed brow.

“Well that one was TOTAL coincidence! No kidding. Had I not been out drinking with my friends, I would’ve never caught that one.” Trey was smiling and shaking his head. “So Brad, Andrew, Sherman and I were like just running around town looking for chicks. We had heard about this new place that is really nice… jazz bands playing, pool tables, classy women. And it’s like down in a cellar!” Nick was familiar with the dive he was referring to and felt Trey was acting more excited about the place than what it deserved. But Nick smiled and nodded. The truth was, Nicholas Walker was already piecing this all together in his mind. Eric meeting with Kurt in a dark, out-of-the-way place, in his car, and who knows how many other times. These three just happened to have been observed by Trey. It was truly starting to appear that Eric’s invasive actions were being directed from an outside source. And Nick could only imagine how much Eric was being paid for all of this. He allowed himself to drift back into Trey’s narrative.

“… getting bored and there were definitely NOT any single women there. Mostly couples, you know. So I said…” Trey was intentionally rambling so as to avoid his monologue from appearing prepared. As he attempted to continue, his uncle’s hand began flipping circles along with his head nodding… an action that screamed out “GET TO THE POINT”!

“OK… yeah… so where I’m going with this is that I happen to look over at a table across the room and there’s Eric and Kurt, talking all seriously and stuff, with a laptop open on the table and a few papers strewn here and there in front of them.” Trey stopped abruptly and became locked in a frozen gaze waiting to hear if any of this was registering with Nick. 10 full seconds of total silence passed.

“You’re sure it was them… meaning you positive ID’d both of them?” Nick grilled Trey for a definitive answer.

“Hey Unk… I mean first of all… I work with Eric. I’d know him a mile away” Trey said in a phony defensive manner. “And not to mention, when you’ve seen two people together a few times, just the two of them sitting there created an automatic recognition thing! You know what I mean? Like… Hey, there’s Eric and Kurt AGAIN!!” Trey laughed a bit. Nick was nodding in agreement and held one hand up to stop Trey from saying anything else. Due to the rather loud nature of Trey’s voice and the content of his last comment, Nick glanced around to see if anyone was anywhere nearby. Trey followed suit by rotating his head in a 360 degree scan of their surroundings… so he would seem to be just as paranoid.

“Trey… listen… it’s actually pretty important that you keep this to yourself. Have you told anyone about these sightings?” Nick said with warning in his voice. Trey did his best to project nervousness in his demeanor. With no expression on his face, he slowly shook his head.

“Good. Don’t.” Nick said. “I’m sure at some point you’ll be filled in on the whole story. But not right now.”

“Is Eric getting fired, Uncle Nick?” Trey asked with an award winning performance of concern for his co-worker.

“No. As a matter of fact, he was possibly getting a promotion.” Nick responded with a distant look in his eyes. ‘But now I’m not so sure that’s going to happen’ he thought. “But listen Trey, I have to head home and leave you to your janitorial duties. Remember..,” Nick zipped his fingertips along his lips. “…keep it to yourself. OK?”

“Oh yeah, Uncle Nick. You can count on me!” Trey said proudly and in a slightly more whispered voice.”And Uncle Nick… I would appreciate the same in return. You know, don’t tell Eric that I was the one who saw him. I just… uh…” Nick held a hand up to prevent Trey from having to complete the sentence he seemed to be struggling with.

“Of course” he promised his nephew.

Dr Nicholas Walker then smiled, patted his nephew on the arm and walked off towards the main office complex. Trey watched him fade into the darkness and then repeated in an almost inaudible voice…

“Oh yeah, Uncle. I will DEFINITELY keep it to myself” He smiled.

Chapter Eleven

 

                “As long as I’m alive, there is always hope”

 

- John Carter of Mars (Character in John Carter of Mars series, Author: Edgar Rice Burroughs)

 

 

 

September 27…present time

 

 

The comfortable night breeze blew over Kurt Lehman’s face as he leaned against the wall of the massive veranda. He was mulling over the day’s activities and events. The message he was waiting to hear would alter his future. Any moment now, Jarvis would walk through that door and announce the arrival of his guest. If they had accomplished what he was needing done, he would now be able to manipulate the launch of the EHM.

“Sir” Jarvis spoke softly so as not to alarm Lehman. He had stepped out on to the patio unannounced and could tell Mr Lehman had not detected his presence. Lehman turned to find Jarvis a mere 5 feet away from him.

“Jarvis I swear! You could be a damn spy!” Kurt said loudly with a laugh. Jarvis simply smiled and then spoke.

“If you say so, sir. A Miss Sheri Preston here to see you sir” Jarvis presented.

“Ah perfect! Please make her comfortable in the library. I’ll be right there”

 

 

It was quite understandable that at some point, the things that would be forfeited in this epic adventure into space would be missed… yearned for… difficult to part with. Angela was feeling that at this moment.

Her head propped on the arm of her plush couch with her feet stretched fully out along its length, Angie was able to stare directly into the eyes of Jesus. Her favorite painting of the Savior was on the wall opposite the other end of the sofa. The artist had successfully created the sensation that the subject’s line of vision seemingly followed you about the room. This was the one thing that trivialized all her possessions. Angela had grown more than positive that an answer to the question of God’s existence would be found out there. Out in the far reaches of space.

Even a simple answer as to whether or not He exists, would be more than sublime. Not finding answers to her own life’s purpose would be somewhat expected. This had truly not transformed into search for the “secrets of the universe”, as Hollywood or popular notion would have it become. No, this premonition or revelation she was being repeatedly inspired by was something solid. Something… true. Just as her focus on the painting blurred in a deep stare that was smothered with thoughtful possibilities… her cell exploded with a call. It was Nick. Her astrophysics frame of mind returned as she scooted herself into an upright position on the couch.

“Hey… what’s up?” she spoke in a voice that belied what she had just been doing.

“Did I wake you?” Nick queried. “We can talk about this tomorrow if you’d rather”

“No Nick. It’s fine. I was just laying here on the couch thinking. Wasn’t even asleep” Nick paused for a few moments before relating to her everything his nephew had just shared with him. Not wanting to ‘automatically’ incriminate Eric, he did his best to relay the story with discretion. Angie remained quiet the entire time. When the phone fell silent on both ends for nearly 10 seconds, Angie spoke.

“I don’t know Nick. No doubt with all Eric has been involved with both past and present, it would be easy to point an accusing finger his way and call it addressed.” She hesitated a moment before proceeding with her next observation. “I hope this doesn’t put me on your bad side. I know Trey is your nephew. Blood relative. But since the day he started working at MARCH, he has totally given me the creeps. Not in a sexual way mind you. But there just seems to be a strange … what you see is NOT what you get… sort of feeling about him” she concluded. When the silence on the other end became awkward, Angie suddenly began to regret having voiced this opinion of the boss’s brother’s son. Nick finally cleared his throat in several rough coughs.

“Well… I would have to concur on that assessment.” Nick somewhat reluctantly acquiesced. Angie could’ve released a resounding sigh of relief, but exerted self-control instead. “He seems to always be sneaking around. Hiding in the shadows and corners.

Impressum

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 17.05.2020

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Widmung:
To my parents... who always sought to inspire their children.