A Mission to Steal

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Chapter 1

Nathan Willis sat at the Kennedy Space Center, his feet on his desk, his hands behind his head, and his thoughts three hundred miles straight up.

Late afternoon, light poured over his shoulder and onto the report that he had been reading from Kryotex, and that's what had him thinking. 

He looked down. He couldn't read the words from where he was, but they were open to the page. He was looking at the paragraph, and he knew what it said. Being a scientist himself, he knew their information was correct. The new fluid they were producing would stay stable indefinitely, meaning that, so long as the system was maintained, a person could stay frozen for thousands of years and be successfully revived.

Kryotex had just developed a way for mankind to live long enough to traverse interstellar space, and at this moment, in stationary orbit above him, NASA was constructing the means. More than that, they had combined the two. 

Chimera was a wonder, the first DSE (Deep Space Exploration) vessel. It was being constructed in orbit with an eye toward interstellar exploration, eventually taking humanity to the stars. Should the need arise, the Kryotex system would be aboard as a life-saving measure, preserving the crew till help arrived.

Chimera weighed a lean four hundred seventy-two thousand tons. Her most noticeable feature was a large outer ring a little more than a mile and a half in diameter. The ring would be a self-sufficient village providing work areas, crew quarters, classrooms, a gym, a cafeteria, even a clinic, and a recreation center. Gravity would be generated by rotation.

She would be powered by eight engines, hydrogen and electric for raw power and initial acceleration, and two warp drives for distance. Given time to accelerate, she could travel at just under three times the speed of light. The engines were housed in cylinders a quarter mile in diameter and a mile long and secured to the outer ring using six corridors that radiated out from them like spokes.

NASA had learned plenty about extending the life of vehicles, beginning with satellites and going through manned stations like Skylab and the International Space Station. Without having to endure the stresses of a ground launch or re-entry, Chimera had the potential to last thousands of years, and her projected survival was so far out that they couldn't date it. Her inaugural mission was to survey the solar system. She would visit all the planets and most of their moons, collect samples, do onboard analysis in a lab that was as well-equipped and sophisticated as any on Earth, and send specimens back to Earth via unmanned launches at prearranged times. Mission departure was still five years away. 

Nathan Willis was a Nobel Prize-winning scientist and the mission's Chief Science Officer. He had been there from concept to approval of her final design. Given what he knew Chimera could do, this mission felt like being given the keys to a Ferrari and told to park it in the garage. 

The report lying on his desk had him contemplating what mankind had dreamed for centuries, the single greatest adventure in humanity’s existence. It would also be the greatest crime in the history of the world. It wasn’t stealing Chimera and taking it to the other side of the galaxy that bothered him. It was how to do it without NASA knowing it had happened. Nathan grabbed the report, tucked it in a valise, and headed for his car. 

His Tesla had everything he wanted: performance, quiet, custom paint, and a better sound system than Carnegie Hall. It made Mozart amazing, particularly at fifteen to twenty over the limit. 

Nathan spent the evening immersed in the technical aspects of the Kryotex report and making sure of their claim about their fluid. He knocked off late, but his mind churned with ideas. He grabbed the legal pad he kept on his nightstand and started writing before burning out sometime after two AM. 

He woke up late, hurrying to get out the door and feeling the effects of a short night. This day was no big deal. They were just beginning the personnel phase, so the largest block of his responsibility was shifting to interviewing applicants for the crew. His office was the last stop before they were scheduled for training. As Chief Science Officer, he had the last word. Today he was interviewing for Chaplain, and Mental Health Officer.

His third interviewee was Dr. Franklin Edwards, who looked more like a defensive lineman than a preacher. 

Nathan asked, “Where are you from?”

"Are you kidding? I've been through a dozen interviews and a whole battery of physical, neurological, skills, and mental tests just to get this far. I walk in here to talk with one of the world's greatest minds, and all you have is, where are you from?"

“Yeah.”

Dr. Edwards's expression soured, but he was still smiling, "Ask something that means something."

Nathan looked at Edwards. "Okay, tell me about Mavis."

Edwards took a deep breath. "Mavis was a mistake. I was young. We were married. The whole thing is really distasteful, and it's already in the file." 

"Yeah, you came to the military a little late. You were what, twenty-five? Why then?" Nathan asked.

"I didn't have a lot going for me when I joined," Edwards answered.

"You had a college degree."

"I was having trouble getting my feet under me financially. The military was a good option. I could send a paycheck home to my parents, have a career, benefits," explained Edwards.

"You had a wife. Why not send her your check?" Nathan asked.

"We were married, but Mavis was never a wife. We were going through a divorce by then," answered Edwards. "No. You know what? You wanna hear me tell the whole stinking sordid tale? Fine. Here it is."

"Never mind, I read it. You had a lying, passive-aggressive master manipulator for a wife who, as it turns out, had a family history of mental illness. While you were married, she called the cops numerous times. After you separated, she had you arrested on a phony rape charge after taking staged photos as evidence and all but ruined your life. I get it." 

"Then why are you asking? What are you getting at?" asked Edwards.

"Your degree was in counseling. You don't strike me as the religious type; why, Chaplain?"

"I felt the call, and I needed God's help. It took me years to forgive Mavis, her family, the cops, myself. I did some things I wasn't proud of." answered Edwards.

Nathan asked, "How do you feel about her now?"

"I don't trust her or any of her people," answered Edwards.

"You forgave her," Nathan said. 

"Forgiven, but I never want to see them again." 

"Never?" asked Nathan.

"I don't even want to be on the same planet," Edwards replied.

"Ah, well, that's quite a statement," Nathan said. 

Edwards answered, "I'm just being honest. I mean, look at what we're going to do."

Edwards’ words sank into Nathan like a spent wave through the sand, and realization swept over him as quickly as the next rushes to the beach to take its place. The method was clear. He would get the full cooperation of the crew. 

Edwards probed through the silence. "Doctor Willis?" 

"I appreciate that," Nathan answered. "Well, we're done here," Nathan told him, closing the folder, standing up, and offering his hand. "Dr. Edwards, thanks for your time."

"That's it? We're done?" Edwards asked, taken aback by the abruptness of the decision.

“Yeah, finished.”

“You don’t want to go into scope of experience?”

“No. I’m satisfied with what I read in the file. You’ll be contacted about training if you’re selected.” 

Nathan interviewed six more candidates throughout the day before packing up his valise. When he arrived home, he was surprised to see his housekeeper’s car still parked in the driveway. 

She was sitting on his couch. Connie Milton was an attractive, lithe, black woman of about thirty with hazel eyes and short hair. 

"Hello, Dr. Willis." 

"Connie, what are you still doing here?" Nathan asked, dropping his valise on the recliner.

Connie answered, "I went to clean up the bedroom and found a notepad on the nightstand. It seemed pretty interesting." 

Nathan scolded, "You don't belong here right now. Where's the notepad?"

"Hidden for the moment, and it's going to stay hidden until we talk."

“What do you want, Connie?” asked Nathan. 

"First, let's be clear. You're planning on stealing the Chimera to colonize humanity on a new world." 

“Really? Maybe I was just scribbling a fantasy.”

“A fantasy that could get you indicted,” Connie answered, “there’s enough on that pad to get you convicted.” 

“You want money?”

“No.” 

“What do you want?” Nathan asked.

"I want to go with you, and in exchange, I can help you solve your problem," Connie told him.

Nathan asked, “What problem? And what makes you think you can just arbitrarily invite yourself 

along for the ride? You think this is a trip to the mall?”

“Please, Dr. Willis, just hear me out.”

“Alright, fine,” he answered, seating himself in the recliner.

Connie said, “I read your notes. You got a long-term maintenance issue. How you gonna maintain the cryonics if the whole crew's on ice? The droids gonna do that?”

“They can do their own maintenance and fabrication.”

"Even the longest-term droids can only go about a hundred years. Once their little built-in power supplies will no longer charge, they're done."

Nathan asked, "Do you actually know something, or did you just figure that out because the battery on your cell phone died?"

Connie answered, "Dr. Willis, you know nothing about me. I applied for the DSE program as a communication specialist. I'm Air Force Reserve with a degree in wireless communication." 

"Yeah, then why are you washing floors?" Nathan asked.

Connie answered, "Cocaine. It's hard to get a job when you can't pass a drug test, but I been clean since I applied for the mission."

Nathan replied, "Good for you, but I don't have a long-term maintenance problem. The nearest habitable world could be only sixty years away."

Connie shook her head. "Could be, maybe. Even if it is, it's not far enough away to start fresh. Sixty light years away on a planet they already know? How long you think before they find it? Soon as they hear a radio transmission, they're coming, then what? Oh, hello. Big brother's here to help you. No. We need to be as far away as we can get, the other side of the galaxy. You have a long-term maintenance problem."

“We just need to bring spares and have the droids programmed to swap one another’s batteries in rotation.”

“You pack a full suitcase to go spend the night?” Connie asked.

“What do you mean?”

“You think you can bring that many spares and not have people asking questions?”

“Alright, what’s your solution?”

Connie answered, “I have an ex-boyfriend-”

"Oh, Lord," Nathan interjected. "Go on."

Connie said, “He makes batteries for robotics using radioactive waste and cultured diamonds. They last three thousand years. Stick that in your droid and drive it. Manufacturers don’t want it because they can’t sell replacements, and he hasn’t exactly been operating by all the rules.” Connie explained.

“Mmm, he’s operating under the radar,” Nathan said.

"Right," Connie answered.

"Well, it wouldn't be the first time NASA has worked with a rogue entrepreneur." Nathan told her, 

"By the way, you realize that you can't tell another living soul about any of this. Your ex, your mom, your BFF, nobody has got to have an inkling of an idea that Chimera may never return. We are the only two on the planet who know. It has to stay that way, and you just pointed out why. The only reason you know is that you read my notes, speaking of which, I want them back."

“What do you mean may never return? You gonna do this or not, and how exactly do you plan to pull this off anyway?"

"I'm not sure it will work, and you don't need to know anymore right now."

“But you’re gonna try.”

“Yeah. It’s a long way off. You need to trust me.”

"Okay. I got nothing to lose. It's lucky for you that I did find those notes because you need those batteries," Connie replied, reaching behind the pillow next to her and pulling out the notepad.

"Whether or not I'm lucky remains to be seen," answered Nathan.

Connie asked, “What do I need to do?”

"We'll figure that out when the time comes," Nathan replied, getting up from the recliner and going to her.

“Oh, so now it’s we, huh?” Connie observed smiling.

“Yeah,” Nathan answered. "I guess it has to be."

"You got that right," Connie told him, handing over the notepad.

The following morning, Nathan walked into the Mission Director's office. He smiled at the upper-middle-aged woman behind the desk, "Good morning, Lorrie." 

She smiled and said, "Good morning, Dr. Willis. What can I do for you?"

"I'd like the personnel file on an applicant, one Constance Milton," he informed her.

"Alright," Lorrie answered, accessing the file from her computer, "may I ask why?"

"I'm engaging in some good old-fashioned nepotism," Nathan stated.

"Ah! Oh, well, I don't have a problem with that, provided she's qualified for whatever you want." Lorrie shrugged.

Nathan told her, "I'm looking for a communications specialist."

"Yep," confirmed Lorrie, "Here she is, aaaaannnd she has the skill set. Oh!"

Nathan said, "Yeah, I know about the problem. She's clean."

"How do you know?" Lorrie asked.

"Connie's my housekeeper, has been since last year," answered Nathan.

"Just because she can do windows doesn't mean she can pass a urine test," Lorrie told him.

"The kid made a mistake," he replied.

"You sure you want her?" she asked. 

"Yeah."

"Okay. Here's how it's going to work." Lorrie informed him, "You make a call right now and fire her. She reports here in an hour for a drop. She'll do two every week until mission training starts and four per week after that until she boards the ship."

"Awe, Lorrie, be reasonable." Nathan protested. 

"Reasonable? I'm doing you a favor," she told him. 

"You're just covering your-"

"Look!" she exclaimed. "There are lots of people with better qualifications for that spot, and hundreds of people, good people whose lives could potentially be jeopardized by bringing her onto the crew, not to mention the millions that could be lost by her screwing up. You want her; those are the terms." 

"Fine," answered Nathan, dialing his cell phone.

"Housekeeper, huh?" smirked Lorrie.

"It's not like that," Nathan answered.

"Whatever," Lorrie answered.

"Hello, Connie," Nathan spoke into the phone as he left her office and walked up the hall.

*********************************

(Five years till the start of the mission. Crew not yet selected)

Chapter 2

A late afternoon in May of 2060 brought low skies, and it was just starting to drizzle when Nathan pulled into the garage at Kryotex. The midnight blue Tesla disappeared into the shadows as he drove to the upper level, which had covered walkways to keep the executives out of the Florida rain and their cars out of the sun. He walked to the building entrance and opened the door to the lobby. Dark polished marble floors and wide wood laminate panels with vertical black recesses between them gave elegance and height to the space. The front of the reception desk featured the company name and logo in an illuminated aquatic sculpture that continually changed color. The receptionist smiled. Standing behind her was an armed security guard. A large glass door opened to their right, and Phillip Desai, President and CEO of Kryotex, motioned for Nathan to join him. "I take it you want to talk about the new fluid," he said over his shoulder as they walked back toward his office. 

"Of course," Nathan answered, keeping up with the brisk pace that Desai was setting.

His office was decorated in shades of deep green, tan, and brown, with an American West motif and paintings of horses. There was even a bar that rested atop two half barrels. Desai motioned to it, "Have a seat, Doctor."

Nathan sat on a stool while Desai went behind it. He was about five-eight, well-proportioned and good-looking. The top of the bar hit him about the bottom of his ribs. 

"I don't serve liquor. What can I get you? I have fruit juice, soda, and water."

“Apple juice?” 

"Coming right up," Desai answered, grabbing two from the mini fridge behind the bar and a couple of glasses.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. You’re here because you want the new juice, right?” Desai asked.

Nathan raised his eyebrows and tilted his head.

"Ah, we may have a problem," Desai told him, taking a swig from his bottle rather than pouring it into the glass. "It's not in production yet. It's expensive, and our contract calls for our standard fluid."

"Honestly, Phil, are you going to make this an issue?" Nathan asked, filling his glass and taking a drink.

"I want my product on the mission, but these things must be addressed."

Nathan took another swallow, “Can you make Seventy-six thousand gallons of it and get it aboard the ship?”

"No," Desai answered.

“How much can you make?”

“None, Desai answered with his hands on the bar. “The formulation requires a different process, one that isn’t approved by the government. We’re working on it, but they have no sense of urgency.”

“They know it’s going on the mission and don't want to spend the additional money." Nathan surmised.

“Who would be standing in the way?” Desai asked, glancing at the time on the grandfather clock to his right.

“How much will it cost?”

“About twice as much, maybe a little less. We’ll be happy to adjust the contract.”

Nathan cracked a wry grin, “At twice the price, I’m sure you would.”

"I'll take a lower profit margin if you can help get me into production. I know you've got friends," Desai replied, taking another drink.

"I'll see what I can do," Nathan said, getting up to leave and reaching to shake his hand. 

"I was expecting to hear from Fran," Desai replied, reaching over the bar.

“You will. Once I get things worked out,” Nathan informed him.

Desai laughed in realization. “She hasn’t seen the report. She drives you crazy, right?”

It was raining hard when Nathan left Kryotex. He had Mozart’s 17thSymphony in his ears and Chimera in his mind. Every day, he checked the progress and viewed the video as it was being built piece by piece. It was his and Cooper's brainchild. They had nurtured it, and now it was growing up before them to fulfill its purpose, and it was that purpose that weighed on him.

Nathan knew that he didn't have to make the call. He could just give Fran the report, tell her he had visited Desai, and leave it there. She would see the new fluid as something for future missions, not as a necessity for this one. He could tell Connie that it was too far-fetched and couldn't be done. He could let things just run their course. 

He had selected Edwards, but that was nothing without the juice. The new formula was everything. Reaching out to get it would mean no turning back. 

Nathan pulled off the road, paused Mozart, and made a phone call. “Ah, Good afternoon. This is Doctor Nathan Willis at the Kennedy Space Center. Is he there? I need a favor.”

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