“Since when did they give a supply pod a cute name? In the past they always had simple identifiers like Unit 250.”
“Good point, Nance. I’ll ask them about it.”
“No, don’t do that. I think we should play along. I’m having a strange feeling about this resupply pod. Just tell them you can hear them.”
“Food Truck One, this is Stargazer, read you loud and clear, over.”
“My name is Mark Jackson, am I speaking to Bill Cranston?”
“Yes, you are, Mark. Bill Cranston here.”
Cranston turned to Nancy Mullin. “I don’t remember any astronaut with that name at Rosetta.”
“My fellow astronaut is Jerry Laub. We’re both new, and that’s why you probably haven’t heard our names before.”
Bill Cranston looked at Nancy Mullin. The both shrugged, not sure what that information could mean to them.
“We’re 2,000 feet away,” Jackson said. “You should be able to see us. I plan to approach the docking port of Stargazer slowly. Once we’re docked we’ll all form a chain gang to bring the supplies aboard.”
“I have you on visual, Mark. It’s a different kind of supply pod from what I’ve seen before.”
“You know Rosetta, Bill. They like to change things all the time.”
Nancy shook Cranston’s sleeve.
“Look at the marking on the fuselage. Somebody forgot how to spell Rosetta.”
Cranston looked at Food Truck One, this time more closely. On the side of the ship was the word, “Rosatta.”
“Somebody’s fucking with us, Nance. I’m guessing whoever it is shot down the first supply rocket from Montana and launched one of their own. The communication blackout enabled them to pull it off. Whoever the hell it is wants to take over this operation. That could explain the erratic behavior of the satellites and the weird weather events.”
“What can we do about it, Captain Bill?” Nancy asked. “Think like the Marine you used to be.”
Cranston reached into a locker next to the microphone and pulled out a Colt 45 pistol equipped with a sound suppression device. He inserted a magazine and chambered a round. The magazine holds seven rounds.
“What the hell are you going to do with that?”
“Possibly shoot a couple of people. Here’s your gun. I’ve seen you on the firing range, and I know that you can use this thing. Now listen to me. As soon as you see a knife or a gun, shout the word ‘weapon’ at the top of your lungs. I’ll do the same if I see it first. Shoot the man closest to you in mid-torso, and I’ll do the same for the other one. Fire two rounds, no more, no less. After we take care of our friendly deliverymen we’ll set their bodies loose into space. It’s clear as crystal. They’re here to kill us, Nance. We have no other option but to kill them first.”
“Oh, dear God, Bill, I’m scared out of my mind. A fucking gunfight?”
“Nancy, look at me. Our lives are on the line, and we don’t have a choice. To be blunt, we have to kill or be killed.”
Mark Jackson maneuvered Food Truck One up to the docking station on Stargazer, gently locking it into place. He opened the airtight door and the two of them floated onto Stargazer. The entry room was nine by twelve feet. Bill Cranston stood three feet from one side of the door and Nancy stood three feet on the other side. They both held their pistols at their sides. As soon as they entered Stargazer, and sooner than Cranston and Mullin expected, both new astronauts drew guns. Nancy screamed, “WEAPON,” and fired two rounds into Mark Jackson, as Bill Cranston shot Laub twice. The sound suppression devices on the guns muffled the roar of the shots.
“Let’s bring our deliverymen friends to the starboard hatch and give them a proper space burial.”
Cranston put on his space suit and entered the airlock that led out into space. He grabbed the edge around the hatch to give himself leverage and pushed each of the bodies with all the strength in his legs, propelling them away from Stargazer. He knew that Nancy wouldn’t like to see dead bodies floating around the station, and neither would he.
It took them an hour to transfer all the supplies and put them in the cabinets on Stargazer. They both agreed that Food Truck One would remain attached to Stargazer. The visiting supply vehicle, unlike Stargazer, was designed for reentry, something that they may have to think about.
“Hey, Nance, why the sourpuss?”
“I never killed anybody before. It’s a creepy feeling.”
“Look at it this way; if they killed you there wouldn’t be any feeling at all. Good shooting, captain.”
“Thanks, captain, you too. Let’s celebrate our gunfight with a nice home cooked meal.”
“I think I’ll skip the saltines.”
After they ate, they inspected the supply pod, Food Truck One.
“Check this out, Bill. It seems that they didn’t communicate by voice but only by text messages. This message came in five minutes ago:
“Awaiting your report on the docking with Stargazer. Was there any resistance? Report immediately.”
“Any resistance?” Nancy said. “I don’t feel bad about shooting those scumbags anymore. The communications blackout was bullshit. They chose to use written messages only to preserve the appearance that we’re not dead. Since they fucked with our heads, let’s return the favor. Let’s tell them the operation was a success and we’re awaiting further orders.”
“Hold on, Nance. Once the conversation gets two layers deep, they’ll know they aren’t speaking to their people. Then what? Will they launch another hit squad? Let’s look through every piece of correspondence and see if we learn something. They won’t freak out if we take a little while longer to reply to their most recent post. Let’s read further.”
“Oh, my God,” Nancy said. “Look at this.”
Chapter 51
“Are you sure it’s a good idea to have a space station expert on my show?” Ellen asked.
“It’s a fabulous idea, hon. It will be great for your ratings, and the country will thank you.”
“Why would the country thank me?”
“Because the show will be pure bullshit. I know you don’t like that idea, but the White House has specifically requested this, and the chief of staff filled me in on the guy. He’s a professor at MIT and a former astronaut. He’ll tell you everything he knows about space stations, which is a lot. He’ll also toss a few curve balls. The idea is to throw Bartholomew Martin and company off. It’s critical that Martin doesn’t suspect that the government knows what he’s up to.”
“Do we know what he’s up to?” Ellen asked.
“That’s part of the idea. We’ll not only throw him off, but we’ll put him on the wrong scent. It will take a lot of intelligence gathering, but Buster, my favorite CIA spook, will be on the case.”
“Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen and welcome to The Ellen Bellamy Show. The whole country has been up in the air recently about the American space station, Stargazer. We know that it monitors a group of 20 satellites, and it also tests and directs them to perform functions. Stargazer is owned and operated by the Rosetta Corporation, an American company. Recently, Stargazer has become a household word nationwide because of its part in the weather catastrophe. We know that after a series of satellite tests, the weather suddenly changed dramatically, giving us freezing temperatures and a record blizzard in the summer. Another test was performed, and the deepfreeze changed into a heat wave, with catastrophic flooding from the melting snow, not to mention tornados. Recently, the weather has moderated, and the temperatures across the country are normal. Here in New York City it’s 82 degrees Fahrenheit, what you would expect for the month of August. But the big question that everybody wants answered is why this all happened. Our special guest today is Michael Crawford, a full professor at the MIT School of Engineering. Professor Crawford was one of the original crew of astronauts aboard the Stargazer when it was first launched. Besides serving aboard the Stargazer, he also headed up the research team that brought the first American space station into service. He was the commander of the first mission of the International Space Station. Welcome Professor Crawford.”