Herculanium (17 page)

“How the hell did he make that shot? He was off-balance!” Micky pointed the remote control at the wide-screen monitor and froze the image. Preston sat back and shook his head in amusement.

“This guy had decent skills, had a good eye. I never played with him, but my folks loved him. I think he was overrated, though. Most of these guys are.”

Micky unpaused the image and allowed her basketball retrospective segment to play its full length. This piece was to be her lead-in to Preston’s biography as spokesperson of Olympus. It traced the history and evolution of basketball from its early beginnings to the present day; a montage of the most spectacular plays, shots and dunks in the sport.

Preston sat in his makeshift throne/conference room chair and laughed out loud, at times slamming his fist on the table with exaggeration and an obnoxious giggle to match.

“I always get a big kick when I watch the oldies play. It’s funny, because everyone thought these guys were the best. But if you compare these players with the current generation, we’d blow ‘em outta the water. There’s no way in hell they’d be able to compete with us.”

Micky looked at him quizzically. “I don’t know, they look pretty good to me. I bet these old-school guys would give you a run for your money.”

“Everyone knows the current crop of players is the best the sport’s ever seen. With all the advances in nutrition, fitness and psychological training this past decade, we’re about as good as it’s ever going to get. We’re taller, bigger, faster. Comparing us with those wannabe’s from last century is like comparing Olympic athletes a hundred years apart. Watching these old films are a riot, like watching the old Three Stooges episodes.”

Dr. Gracie entered the conference room as if she was ready for a rumble. She did a quick head count of Micky, Preston, and the scientists present in the room before sitting down. There were no pleasantries this time, and the doctor’s demeanor didn’t hold back any agitation.

“Thank you all for being prompt. I’m sorry to have to pull you away from your work and business, but I have to make an important announcement.”

Micky immediately shut off the monitor and went back to her seat.

“Effective immediately, we are to evacuate the Olympus Space Station and report back to earth. You have three hours to pack all your belongings and report to Airlock 6 to disembark. Please leave your work, projects and research where they are; you will be given the chance to complete them at a later date.”

The room erupted into a frenzy.

Micky quickly stood up. “What do mean ‘evacuate? Are we in any danger?”

“We are not in any danger. Please follow the procedures in the emergency manual placed in your rooms. You have three hours to pack and report to Airlock 6.” Dr. Gracie looked down at the desk, closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She placed her palm across her nose and mouth and shook her head.

Micky was the first of the mob to approach her. “Dr. Gracie? Jillian? What’s going on? Can you tell us why we’re being evacuated?”

“I’m not authorized to disclose that information just yet. Once we’re back on the shuttle, I will brief all of you of our situation. Until then, please follow procedures and meet me at Airlock 6 in three hours.”

“Is Peryson behind all of this? Can you get him on the line? What about my agent, Maxwell Lee?” Preston, as towering a figure as he was, became just another passenger put on hold.

“We’ve have limited communication, due to intense sunspot activity.”

“But what about the grand opening? The inauguration?”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Jones, but that has been put on hold until further notice.”

“What the hell are we going to tell the world?” Micky stared at Dr. Gracie unblinkingly, subconsciously blaming her that her past week of back-breaking work and research was for nothing.

“What ‘we’ tell the world is not your concern, Ms. Suarez.” Dr. Gracie stepped back from the table and again addressed the crowd. “All of this is classified information. You are not to disclose any of these events to anyone unless given permission to do so. I want to make sure that absolutely clear right now.”

As abruptly as she entered, Dr. Gracie left the room. But as the discussion became louder and louder in the room, Preston noticed a background noise he hadn’t heard before. Seemingly emanating from outside the room, he broke away from the crowd and peeked outside the door. Soldiers were marching in the hallway, fully armed and being given instructions which areas to guard and secure. Dr. Gracie’s assurances of safety were only half-true; it wasn’t they who weren’t in any danger, it was the station itself. The military was going to make sure of it.

The next hour felt like an extended fire drill gone awry. There was no coordination between departments and personnel, and the station’s occupants were left to scramble for space and time in the now-cramp hallways. Alarm claxons came to life briefly, only to be replaced by flickering “alert” lights located throughout the station. Scientists and workers eager to check their work before leaving were swayed away by armed guards posted in front of every entrance. The once ambient personnel of the station were now herded in a clustered line that led to the Airlock 6, the only active exit. A makeshift roll-call list was called out by department heads at different segments of the line, assuring the military that everyone was accounted for.

Preston and Micky found each other in the hallway after packing their belongings, astounded at the chaos around them. Isolated in orbit and being herded into a tunnel by armed guards was not something they had envisioned this adventure to conclude with. Flying back to earth, as threatening a trip as the military was making it, was the only relief.

“It feels like we’re in back of the line,” complained Preston. “We’re the celebrities here; we should be in front of everybody.”

“Have you noticed all the scientists are ahead of us? It seems like they want people with high security access to board first.”

“What the fuck could’ve made this happen?” Preston stared at the long line behind and in front of him. “These guys with guns are making me nervous.” Above the murmurs of conversation, he could hear sporadic arguments between unknown people. The moment he would hear a gunshot, he promised himself that he would drop to the ground and find cover.

“I don’t know,” said Micky, checking her watch. “I asked a bunch of the workers here, and they couldn’t tell me jack. It’s like all of this just came up all of a sudden. I haven’t seen Dr. Gracie since the meeting. She knew about this before anyone else did. Why couldn’t she tell us?”

“I just threw all my shit into my bags and bailed out of my room. Whatever’s going to happen, I just want to be out of here. They can keep their secrets.”

The heel stomps of boot-clad soldiers grew louder from the front of the line. A small cadre of guards came into view, pushing several carts through the cramp hallway.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please place your luggage onto the carts.” The lead soldier was a poster boy grunt, complete with chiseled features and a muscled frame bulging beneath his uniform. He towered above everyone—except Preston. “We will load them into the shuttle for your convenience.”

The soldiers were inserting the passengers’ hand-carry luggage into portable metal containers on the carts.

“Why are you collecting our luggage?” asked Preston with a mock smile.

“I’m just following orders, sir. This is standard procedure for this type of evacuation.” The soldier’s politeness was as routine as his arrogant swagger. Preston knew better than to confuse his seeming humility with his ability and eagerness to kill.

“It wasn’t in the manual,” said Micky in rebuttal. “Thanks for the offer, but I think I’ll just hold on to mine. Thank you.”

“Miss, I’m going to have to insist. This is for everyone’s safety. I’m sure you understand.”

“The lady said she was going to hold on to hers,” defied Preston. “For that matter, so am I.”

The soldier motioned behind him for back-up, and then faced Preston, visibly moving his hand closer to the trigger of the rifle he had slung over his shoulder.

“I’m afraid that wasn’t a request. Will you please put your luggage onto the cart?”

“Oh, I see how it is.” Preston nodded his head in skeptical acknowledgment. “You’re a tough guy with your gun and your punks backing you up, huh?”

Micky nudged Preston with her wrist, motioning for him to back down—at least for now.

“Here you go, Mr. Officer, sir,” she said, with the most absurd smile she could make. “There’s plenty of lipstick and eye-liner in there. I’m sure it’ll match the make-up you have on right now.”

Preston dropped his luggage on the floor in defiance. If they wanted his gear, they would have to bend down before him to pick it up. He stared unblinking at the lead soldier, reminding him that this confrontation will be concluded at a later date.

The soldier stared back for a moment, but then proceeded to the guests behind Preston and Micky.

“I’m going to get that prick when we I see him again. Mark my word.” Preston couldn’t help looking back and staring at the soldiers down the hallway. “Max’s present was in the luggage.”

“His what?” asked Micky.

“The present Max got me. He packed it in my luggage.”

“He gave me something, too,” said Micky, with an impish smile.

“What’d he get you?”

“I’m wearing it.”

Preston looked over her body from top to bottom and smiled. “I don’t see anything.”

Micky smiled and bit her lip.

“Why you freaky thing, you! Hey, you better be nice to my boy. I don’t wanna see him walking around with a broken heart, ‘know what I mean?”

“Who said anything about a broken hearts?”

After passing innumerable guards standing at their posts, Preston and Micky finally entered Airlock 6 and boarded the shuttle. Onboard was an ocean of chatter, with each passenger visibly gesticulating wildly with concern and confusion. There was no assigned seating anymore; scientists, consultants, even the escorts, took up most of the cabin. The stewardesses themselves sat in their secured areas, seemingly unable to service the passengers. The formality of wearing pressure suits was all but forgotten.

Preston could barely recognize the room, subconsciously blocking painful vomit memories of his initial arrival. Micky scanned each of the seats for Dr. Gillian Gracie, but still couldn’t find her in the shifting mass of bodies.

They both took their seats, with Preston could barely squeeze his tall frame into the reclining chair; luckily, he wasn’t too claustrophobic.

“This should be an interesting trip back,” said Micky in reflection. “What the hell are people going to say back on earth?”

“Yeah, well, all I’m concerned about is my barf bag. Space-travel and I don’t exactly agree, you know?”

“Hey, when you get the urge, be sure to aim the other way.” She pointed to the passenger on Preston’s left side.

The shuttle bay doors closed with an ominous echo, followed by the familiar hiss of vacuum-pressurized seals that secured them in place. Almost immediately, static-ridden flight chatter came from the on-board intercom system. It made the room all the more deafening, adding yet another layer of sound to the existing chaos.

But a familiar voice suddenly emerged from the static, forcing the passengers to abruptly pause and listen. All eyes and ears stared at the overhead speakers.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is Dr. Gillian Gracie. I truly apologize for our abrupt departure. I know of the many projects you left behind, and all the hard work that has gone into making Olympus a reality. Due to circumstances beyond our control, we have been ordered by the military to temporarily leave the space station. At this time, it is not in our best interest to question the motive of this request. Suffice it to say, I have been personally reassured that we will indeed return to this station at a later date. For the now, we must return to earth. Half of our comrades have already left this morning, in a sister shuttle. We will be joining them shortly. Please keep the details of this event to yourself. I am sure there will be more explanations to come. I will see all of you back on earth, at the de-briefing.”

“Oh, fuck,” said Preston, staring at Micky’s equally-bewildered face. “This is some
serious
shit.”

The shuttle began to vibrate, the ambient lighting dimming in shades of its own color. The intercom chatter lowered in volume, while over-the-shoulder harnesses secured themselves over each passenger. Unlike the airfield back on earth, there was no runway here to taxi around in and fly away from. The shuttle was already in space, attached only by complex moorings to the station via the airlock. It was only a matter of using orbital momentum and gravity drift to distance the shuttle from the station before finding its proper descent orbit to return home.

The cabin fell silent as the window view of the station gave way to a panoramic vista of planet earth. Those fortunate enough to have a window view outwardly gasped in awe; as many times as some of the scientists have traveled to Olympus, they never got tired of the view.

“Look, everybody,” yelled one scientist, “there’s another space shuttle headed for the station.”

The starboard-side passengers quickly leaned into their windows. A few hundred meters away, on a lower arc below the station, another shuttle came into view. Its design was unlike anything anyone on-board had ever seen, and these were seasoned scientists who knew the project intimately.

“What do you see?” asked Preston, stretching his neck through his harness.

“It’s another shuttle,” observed Micky, “but it’s all black. No markings at all, and it’s shaped differently; very sleek and streamlined. It’s almost like a stealth plane.”

“What’s a military stealth plane doing near a commercial hotel?” asked Preston. “Is it American?”

“I can’t tell!” screamed Micky.

The TransAstra shuttle continued its slow descent from the station. With all eyes already locked on the stealth shuttle, another vehicle came into view. Coming in from an obtuse angle from above the station, this new shuttle was carrying payload, not passengers, and was headed to an airlock near the one they departed from.