Solutions: The Dilemma of Hopelessness, James Gerard [free children's ebooks online .txt] 📗

rubbed her eyes.  “Is there any possible way of reaching higher speeds?”

 

“Eventually, but we have had major setbacks with the preliminary development of thermal-electric propulsion,” Doctor Montgomery answered.  “It has been projected that it is decades away from the first test in space.”

 

“Well, seeing that time will have run out long before that makes it a mute point.”  She glanced at Charles then turned away.  “Doctor Montgomery, is there any other method that we can use to increase speed?”

 

“A gravitational assist using the sun.”

 

Charles jumped to his feet.  “Such a strategy is fine for small probes, but even that has proven destructive at times.  The slightest miscalculation, the slightest problem in the propulsion system and the mission is over right then. And the same holds true if you are going to recommend a gravitational assist using a planet.  It is too risky. The mission is too important to risk such maneuvers.”

 

“Well Doctor Montgomery?” she asked.

 

“I don’t know.  But since the destination point is at a position where no planet’s orbit will interfere in its travels, and the Observer is emitting an intermittent signal which we can use as a beacon for the guidance system, I tend to agree with Charles.  I say go with his recommendation to proceed in as straight of a line as possible.”

 

She picked up the report and paused.  “I agree as well.  We just have enough time as it is.  It is paramount that the vehicle arrives there safely and that we proceed with it now.”

 

“It may not be my place to suggest this,” said Doctor Montgomery, “but we could just contact the Chinese space agency to discuss combining our efforts on this mission.”

 

Senator Richards scribbled something on the cover of the report, and then looked to him, “Are you serious?”

 

Doctor Montgomery sprung to his feet.  “Please accept my apology for the suggestion.”

 

“Sit back down.”  She stared at the doctor.  “Just one more concern: What if the beacon stops transmitting?”

 

“That is no problem,” Doctor Montgomery responded.  “The guidance system can use star charts to guide the ship to the destination in the event that occurs.  We already have the coordinates well plotted.”

 

“Is there anything else the president may ask that needs further clarification?” asked Charles.

 

“No.  Every other aspect of the solution has been explained and detailed to my satisfaction.  That is all that I require.”

 

“Can I expect Timothy to be aboard the passenger shuttle to the ISS?" asked Charles.

 

Senator Richards smiled.  “He is already at the station.”

 

“He is!” mumbled Charles.  Hhis chin then dropped to the floor.

 

“Yes,” she answered.  “Your presence is no longer required.  You may go.”

 

“Very well Senator Richards,” Charles calmly said.  “It has been a pleasure seeing you again.”

 

“Likewise Charles.”

 

Charles observed an eerie silence as he opened the door tnen walked out of the room.  Sunlight struck his eyes with blinding rays and burned at his cheeks.

 

“How did it go in there,” asked Donald.

 

Charles quickly blocked the rays with the sunglasses.  “Fine,” he said while forcing a smile.  “But a word of advice: Don’t mention the president on the way back to the airport.”

 

Donald smiled.  “Thanks for the warning.”

 

“Well, I better get back down to my hole before they start to wonder.”

 

“We’ll see you soon then,” said Donald.

 

“Sure.”

 

As Charles walked down to the bowels, he contemplated certain points of the proceeding that pointed to deceptive intentions.  The first inducement he thought of concerned her statement of feeling more comfortable if someone other than himself had presented the proposal—no, thought of the solution.  After all, he deduced, in her own words she felt it had merit, did give it her approval, but that was due to her own thoughts of appearing a fool if the president had to go to her and request a briefing of the proceeding.

 

Another inducement concerned all the unnecessary questions answered by Doctor Montgomery.  It did not appear that he was involved if she had devious intentions.  He would have certainly explained details of the report with brevity—not long winded explanations.  And if Timothy was already aboard the station, then he certainly disguised that fact well.  But he reasoned it could have been a ruse, as with the absence of Dr. Johnson.  He also reasoned that is what the sentry meant when he said Dr. Johnson was not at the facility on the day he had the appointment.  That’s why I didn’t see him in the courier’s room.  He had left the center with Timothy, and they talked with her that day; must have.

 

He also could not understand the issue of the rover. Maybe it would be used to escort Timothy off the ship before the launch?  Maybe that was the reason she excused just me?  She wanted to talk with Doctor Montgomery about that.  Or maybe she was going to follow up on his suggestion to sit on the project?

 

And Timothy, he thought, was he really at the station?  Or, did he fail in his performance?  He wondered if Doctor Johnson somehow eavesdropped on the conversation that day.  “No,” he whispered, “Timothy probably would have sensed it if he had.  But if he hadn’t, perhaps Timothy has been censured, escorted to a mental center.  Possibly killed.”

 

“Great,” he whispered, careful not to broadcast his frustration through the cameras above.  She wouldn’t risk her future knowing the president would approve the proposal, reasoned Charles.

 

Charles ached to discover the truth.  He figured the only way to find out would be going to the ISS to witness the onset of the journey itself.  To do that, he knew he would have to bypass Senator Richards again and have the president designate him as the solution’s executive.  He knew the strategy would be risky considering her agitation concerning his covert activities while at the center, but it was a risk he had to take.

Two

Charles shook his head at the sight of the ISS looming larger within the frame of a window.  His eyes were unfocused on countless eyes glinting, absorbing the brilliance of solar panels that surrounded a hazy form of interconnected tubes and spheres.  Thinking they certainly had fooled the citizenry with its promise of hope for the future, the scene was imrpessive.  He knew the station’s purpose was more than just a platform for the future colonization of a world lying within their control—much more.

 

But with the flu pandemic wreaking havoc, common sense finally pervaded the collective minds that were wrapped within a sheath of bureaucratic red.  These government officials all of a sudden could have cared less about the colonization plans.  The flu pandemic, its spread aided by manipulations in a lab, took back seat to the unavoidable collision with the asteroid and virtually made all their plans obsolete.  And there was no longer a need to inform the citizenry.  Acknowledgement of such future plans were now void.

 

Charles knew that such government planning had involved Senator Richards and her cohorts.  In fact, thinking back to the solution’s meeting, she did not want to hear Doctor Montgomery’s explanations concerning evidence that the Observer indeed existed.  He must not be one of the select few.  Or, she did not want to confirm her knowledge of its existence because if it ever leaked out to the citizenry, they would certainly smell the stench of deception on her part and instantly demand accountability.

 

Light from a strobe struck Charles’ vision and diverted the attention.  He stared at the station lying ahead.  He was well aware that its purpose was not unlike the enemy fortresses that orbited the eyes and ears below, for they too, undisclosed to the citizenry, were just diversions from the truth.

 

In spite of the pandemic, the asteroid made all space stations useless platforms to deliver the needs of power, the rigs to pump up the water buried deep within the mantle.  They were now of none effect.  As far as the thousands and thousands of pieces of heavy equipment to level areas for biodomes and agridomes, pulverize the rocks, process the soil to make it suitable for crops and livestock, they were left rusting where they sat.

 

 As the station loomed even larger, its exterior filling the frame of the window with an iridescent glow, events from a history text Charles read as a child raised questions in the mind.  “Repetitions of destruction,” he whispered.  “Endless cycles of ignorance.”

 

Despite his feelings, Charles did hope that his solution would reach fruition.  That reality, however, depended on the success of the plan’s components.  And for that reality to occur, he had to witness himself that Timothy was indeed the solution’s representative.

 

His suspicions concerning devious deeds had been held captive in the bowels of the Solutions Center for the past six months as punishment—no doubt—for bypassing the accepted communication protocol.

 

During that torturous wait he felt the need to involve himself with those who sought his assistance pale, the desire to advise those he felt fearing the failure of their respective proposals wane, yet he realized he had to maintain an upbeat demeanor.  And that had been a struggle.

 

Thanks to Senator Richards most likely, any covert information that might have eased any concerns were limited to correspondences delivered and dispatched directly to and from his cubicle by sentry only.

 

As a result of his improprieties, all he received were useless updates concerning the preliminary stages to prepare the vehicle, when the modules were assembled, fastened together, and launched to the ISS—nothing that eased the pangs of anxiety pulsing in his mind.  As to why she had enforced such measures made Charles’ anxiety ache all the more.

 

Maybe she figured that whoever sent the message was scheming to undermine the survival of the human race, he thought.  But even Charles understood she could not be seriously considering that circumstance unless she believed they somehow overestimated the speed capabilities, figure the ship could arrive at the meeting destination in ten months, not ten years.

 

Another reason, thought Charles, is she intends to sabotage the mission.  That if the message, the meeting, had indeed been a warning, she will assure it fails.  Yes, he concluded.  That way she could make sure that when it’s her and her cohorts time to grab the lion’s share of power in the new world, she will simply reveal the truth, saying she had had enough integrity and accountability not to leave the citizenry to rot on the surface of the Earth.  “But no,” he whispered, “that doesn’t make sense.”

 

There was only one other possibility churning within Charles’ mind.  That scenario entailed circumstances that were simply too improbable to occur.  But if it comes to light, he was about to find out; hopefully.

 

The only thought that drove his motives for many a year had really been the anticipation of this day, to witness the onset of the solution, the true intentions of the plan—at least he hoped; for the Solutions Center had fulfilled part of the objective, yet his passions were not completely sated.

 

“Attention,” a voice crackled through a speaker and quickly broke up his thoughts.  “At this time make sure that you are well-secured to your seat.”

 

The shuttle lurched.  The sudden deceleration evoked a snort from a stranger sitting weightless under a net of belts.  Charles chuckled at the sight of the stranger’s arms swaying like tentacles caught in a powerful surge of a surf zone.  A glow of beaded saliva dribbling forth from his mouthlooked like a string of soapy bubbles.  He had briefly wondered why the stranger