The Victor Project (25 page)

     “Is there any other place on the block?” said Grunt.

     “I’ll take that as a yes,” said Rick.

      Grunt spun around and pressed a few more keys on the computer while Rick emptied the bags.  Without missing a beat, he grabbed some food from Rick’s hand and continued keying.

     “I think I got this working.  Watch this!” exclaimed Grunt with a mouth full of noodles.

     “Rick is that you?” asked John.

     “Right here,” replied Rick.

     “What’s going on down there?” asked John.

     “I think you know more than we,” said Rick.

     “How is the virus spreading?” asked John.

     “We’re pretty sure that it is terrorists.  They’ll pick each zone off one by one, unless we escape.  That’s where we need your help,” said Rick.

     “What can I do?” asked John.

     “The security on all zones will remain full force until it’s too late.  That is unless we can convince the remaining zone officials to free us all or we convince the masses to demand freedom.  Either way we need your help.  We need something solid to take to the media, something the television stations will believe enough to air.  Otherwise they might think this is all one big hoax.  What we need is for you to give us live proof of the space station and the evacuation,” said Rick.

     “What if I broadcast a picture of earth from the space station?” said Grunt.

     “Anyone can get that,” said Rick.

     “OK, how about the president.  He’s got to be up there,” said Grunt.

     “I don’t think the guy will be willing to help the cause,” said Rick.

     “I just don’t know what I can transmit that will be convincing,” said John.

     “I don’t know either, but try to find something and quick,” said Rick.  “Look, we’re going to leave in a few minutes and go to the local television station.  Can you transmit again in two hours?” asked Rick.

     “I can transmit, but I don’t know what I’ll have,” said John.

     “Get something, anything,” said Rick.

     “I’ll try,” said John.

     “I don’t want to put too much pressure on you, but if you don’t find unquestionable proof, I’m afraid a lot of people will die down here,” said Rick.

     “I never wanted to be a hero,” said John.

     “You don’t get to choose,” said Rick.

     As John terminated the transmission, the one thing that stuck in his mind was the statement Grunt had made.  The President of the United States was a figure that everyone recognized and someone everyone would believe.  Any other proof or evidence of the evacuation that he might stumble upon could easily be written off as a hoax.  Given the events of the past few days, the only way someone like him was going to get close to the president was by way of force, which could easily end up costing him his life.  Like Rick said, millions of people down on earth were now depending upon him, two of which were his parents.  If it is the President they need for proof of this tin can, then Mr. President they’ll get, John said out loud.

     Just before invoking the satellite link, John had seen fat-boy Kerns waddling around B-deck spreading his ambassador charm amongst the new arrivals.  Starting with Kerns was as good a place as any.

     Within a few minutes, John was out of his pod and onto the main deck.  As he circled through one of the B-deck’s corridors, he spotted Kerns standing in front of a living pod recording a message on his wrist computer.

     “Benny, you got a second?” asked John.

     “Sure John.  What can I do for you?” said Kerns.

     “I heard the president is on board,” said John.

     “Of course, we wouldn’t leave him behind,” said Kerns.

     “Are his quarters on B-deck?” asked John.

     “It’s on the top level.  There are actually four connected pods specially designed for his majesty.  But if you are looking to meet him, rumor is that he is sick,” said Kerns.

     “Sick from the trip?” asked John.

     “Most likely.  Hell I almost blew my cookies on the way up here,” said Kerns.

     “I really wanted to meet him,” said John.

     “You got at least a couple of years, but if you’re desperate, he’s in the medical quarters further down this corridor,” said Kerns.

     “Thanks Benny,” said John.

     John watched Benny waddle away and began to think that it wouldn’t hurt to simply ask to see the president, all they could say was no.  The population of C-Orbit was about to become the smallest democracy in history and sooner or later, the man was going to have an intimate chat with everyone.

     As he approached the entrance doors to the medical bay, he could see that two Secret Service men had already taken their posts.  No doubt their orders were to allow no admittance, unless you exhibited visible blood loss.  As he drew closer the two men keenly focused on him.

     “My name is John McKintrick.  I’m a senior engineer on this ship.  I heard the president was inside and I wanted to know if I could have a word with him?” asked John.

     “We are under orders to allow no one to enter,” said the taller of the two.

     “We’re all going to run into him sooner or later.  I just thought I would introduce myself and answer any questions he might have about the space station,” said John.

     “I’m sorry sir, but that won’t be possible today.  Maybe another time,” said the other man.

     “Are you sure?” asked John.

     “We have orders sir.”

     “Thanks,” said John.

     Since they were all locked into a remote environment such as C-Orbit, John had hoped that presidential security would be downgraded somewhat.  There w
ere really no reasons left in the world to bring harm to the man.  Now he was just another survivor, his respective power was for the most part dying back on earth.  Looking at his watch he noted that twenty minutes had already passed since he communicated with Rick, twenty valuable minutes.

     For obvious reasons, there were no weapons allowed on C-Orbit.  One breach of its skin by a laser and you could write off everyone in that corridor section, that was if the doors sealed properly and quickly.  The only destructive machines on the entire ship were four defense lasers, placed at strategic positions on its exterior.

     The pieces of space trash that had accumulated since man first launched into orbit in the twentieth century had easily surpassed the number of stars in the galaxy.  But unlike stars they were moving somewhat faster and scattered amongst thousands of their own tiny orbits.  Any given piece of space junk was traveling at over seventeen thousand miles per hour, which was enough velocity to rupture C-Orbits skin like a bowling ball through a facial tissue.  As big a target as C-Orbit now was, a fair number of bowling balls were inevitably going to strike.

     Each defense laser had the sole purpose of obliterating any space trash that found its orbit to be on a direct collision course with the station.  And each was mounted into a robotic arm that aimed the laser based upon the computer’s tracking system.  In case of computer failure, each was constructed with an over-ride switch so that they could be manually fired.  What C-Orbit personnel had been fully trained on firing the laser, he did not know.  But best of all any monkey in a space suit could detach one from it’s mounting with a few simple tools.

     Because of its location outside the ship, to get only one of the lasers detached from its mount as quick as he needed would take more than one person.  Of all the engineers John knew on board C-Orbit, Stanton Kroil and Brant Stiller were the only two that he felt he could trust.  They were also the only two that were crazy enough to believe the story he was about to tell them.  At this moment, both were down on Q-deck working on docking port 3, which failed on the last transport hook up attempt. 

     He really didn’t care what people thought as they stopped and watched him run full stride down the corridors.  What he had to focus on was how he was going to tell Stiller and Kroil the story of the virus and make it good enough for them to believe.  They were working so diligently that they didn’t even hear him approach.

     “Hey guys,” said John while trying to slow his breathing.

     “Why you running boss?” asked Kroil.

     “Why are all these people on board?” asked Stiller.

     “Come with me,” said John as he stepped through a doorway that led into a small electrical room.

     The two said nothing and hurried into the room.  John checked around the docking area for witnesses and then closed the door.

     “I don’t have much time, so what I’m going to tell you, you have to believe.  There is a group of terrorists spreading a virus to all the zones on earth.  They have successfully wiped out every single zone except for the ones in the
United States.  From what I know, Zone 6 has contracted it and no one will probably survive.  Our government chose to flee and leave almost everyone behind to die, that’s our families and friends.  I’ve got some contacts down on earth and they tell me that if the people can be released from the zones, then they have a chance of surviving, otherwise they’re all as good as dead.

     “When were they going to tell us about all this?” asked Stiller.

     “I would imagine they were going to tell the crew sometime later, after the virus had struck all the zones and no one could return,” said John.

     “Are you sure about this?  This is one of your jokes isn’t it?” asked Kroil.

     “No, I’m dead serious.  This is where I need your help.  I want to force the President to transmit a message to earth via satellite to confess about the virus and the evacuation,” said John.

     “The President’s on board?” asked Kroil.

     “Shut up,” said Stiller.

     “It’s not going to be easy to get at him.  All I need is for you guys to help me detach one of the defense lasers,” said John.

     “And then what?” asked Stiller.

     “Then I use it as a weapon to get to the president,” said John.

     “You’ll never get away with that dude,” said Kroil.

     “Don’t you understand
?  I have to try.  I can’t just let everyone die down there,” said John.

     “I want to help you, but how can you be so sure about all this?” asked Stiller.

     “I’ve spoke with people down on earth and I’ve spoke with someone from the committee.  I can’t say whom.  But you guys have to trust me,” said John.

     “We’ll help you,” said Stiller.

     “What?” said Kroil.

     “I said we’ll help him.  All we have to do is detach the laser.  Besides, if he’s right, that’s our parents down there for Christ’s sake.  And you’re god damn going to suit up,” said Stiller.

     “All right, I’ll help,” said Kroil.

     “Thanks guys.  Grab all the tools you think we’ll need and meet me at the end of corridor four on O-deck, where the air-lock is.  You know where I’m talking about?” asked John as he opened the door.

     “Yea, we know,” said Stiller.

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      Fortunately, one of the lasers was mounted only twenty-five feet from the O-deck air-lock.  Through the window, John assessed how he would be able to physically manage the laser using his arms.  It was much smaller than he had realized and looked as though he would be able to cradle the gizmo in one arm.  In the short seven minutes he waited for Kroil and Stanton, the laser had fired fourteen times.  To ensure that no one got zapped, priority one was to flip on the manual over-ride switch.  If one of them floated passed the barrel with it set to automatic, it would turn them into a space marshmallow.

     By the time the two appeared with the tools, it left only one hour and twenty minutes to suit up, detach the laser, make his way to B-deck and use it to coerce the president into some type of global confession to the masses.  And all the while not get shot.

     “Stiller, get into a suit, we don’t have much time,” said John.

     “What about me?” asked Kroil.

     “Someone’s got to stay inside and operate the air-lock so that we can get back in,” said John.

     “You’ve been volunteered,” said Stiller as he stepped into the suit.

     “You know what to do?” said John to Stiller.

     “You scared?” asked Stiller.

     “No, I just want to make sure you know what to do,” said John.

     “I could detach that thing with just a table fork,” said Stiller.

     “We don’t have a fork.  Make sure you bring those tools,” said John just before he put on his helmet.

     “All right, take it easy,” said Stiller.

     “You know you won’t be able to shoot that thing in here.  If you hit an outside wall by accident, it will be total decompression,” said Kroil.

     “Yea, I know.  Let’s hope they don’t know that,” said John.  “Check me out.”

     “When we remove this baby, there will be nothing to stop that space crap from striking this station,” said Stiller.