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  “No, it doesn’t,” Tom replied. “But there are reasons. Freeman is a problem solver. He has this amazing mind. He will be guaranteed a place on the ARC. Yes, he would be a tremendous asset on Noah, but right now, Earth still needs him.”

  With a disgruntled “hmm,” Quinn peered up to the sky and to the small planet that could be seen in the daylight. It looked like a huge, bright star. “On the ARC, huh? At the rate that thing is coming at us”—he looked at Tom—“is Earth going to be around in twenty-five years?”

  FIVE

  Japan Aerospace Exploration Agency (JAXA)

  Chofu City, Tokyo

  Within three days of the phone call from Marshman, Tucker had traveled to Dallas via coach on a budget airline, only to board a private jet when he arrived. Although, with the constant earthquake activity in Texas, Tucker was surprised that was even a destination.

  Dallas was the last of the remaining large metropolises still intact. Most of the others had been destroyed by earthquakes or buried under water that failed to recede back into the Gulf of Mexico.

  He imagined years earlier it must have been a shock for those who remembered the glory days pre-disaster. Now it was commonplace.

  He didn’t get to experience any tremors, though he was warned he would. In a twisted way, experiencing one would have been fun.

  Tucker didn’t even know where he was going. All he’d been told was to pack a bag; he wasn’t returning home.

  There was a lot of life going into his one bag, but he did it.

  Before he left, he visited the memorial site of his sister and the grave of his grandfather, both of which were located on the old farm property. Land that was eventually acquired from his grandfather to stop spectators from watching the ARC like a tourist attraction.

  They allowed his grandfather to live there until he passed. They didn’t tear down the house. Workers actually lived there, and small trailers were set up on the property.

  Tucker was a celebrity of sorts to those in the ARC world, so they had no problem with him visiting the grave.

  He said his goodbyes, telling his grandfather, “I’m doing it, Pap, I’m going up there,” before leaving the farm for the final time.

  He napped on the private plane, as advised by the pilot because it was going to be a long flight. He didn’t expect to land in Japan. He was informed by the flight crew that he wasn’t to get too comfortable as they would be leaving again in a day. They were picking up another crew member, then they’d head to their final destination.

  “Which is?” Tucker asked.

  “We really can’t say.”

  A driver waited for him at the airport. Tucker managed to get a call through to Marshman while in the car.

  Marshman had been sleeping and answered with a groggy, “Hello.”

  “What the heck?” Tucker greeted him over the phone. “I’m halfway across the world and no one will tell me anything.”

  “I apologize for that. I truly do. We just need to be secretive until we are secure at the facility.”

  “And that is where?”

  “You’ll know when you get here.”

  “It’s that secret?” Tucker asked.

  “It’s that important.”

  “Okay, I’ll refrain from asking anymore.”

  “Thank you. I am going back to bed. I will see you tomorrow at the facility.”

  Tucker ended the call, placed the phone in his pocket, and stared out the window. He would have loved to have seen Tokyo before the world went on rationed living. Restaurants were all a thing of the past. The buildings remained but they were empty and dark. Bars and drinking establishments stayed; occasionally there was food, but not often.

  The days of frivolous eating, wasting portions, and over-stocked grocery stores had disappeared five years earlier. That was a shame. The young generation would never know it, just like they wouldn’t know JAXA in its heyday.

  Tucker had been there once, twenty years earlier. It was like the pictures of Kennedy Space Center when it was still above water. As they pulled into the grounds of JAXA, Tucker barely recognized it.

  The grounds were barren, the grass dried, and some of the bushes and trees grew out of control. Even the driveway lacked maintenance. The rocket and part space shuttle that graced the outside of the building were weather worn. The front of the building appeared abandoned; the windows hadn’t been washed in years. The parking lot had one lone car.

  “Holy crap,” Tucker said, “is there anyone even here? Or is that a question you can’t handle?”

  “I found it strange that I was to bring you here. This facility has been closed for years. I think it is used for storage. I’m not sure.”

  “And you’re supposed to just leave me here.”

  “I guess that car”—the driver pointed—“is the person you are meeting.”

  “Do you have a name?”

  “Me? I’m Len.”

  “No, not you, but nice to meet you, Len. A name for the person I am meeting.”

  Len shook his head.

  “Oh, well. Thank you for the ride.” Tucker grabbed his bag, stepped out, and closed the door. “Oh, one more…” Before he could finish, Len had driven away. Tucker tossed up his hand. “Great.” He shouldered his bag and walked to the main front doors.

  They were open.

  Thinking a sarcastic, Wow, security is top notch he walked inside.

  The entire front lobby was empty except the visitor’s desk. There were no chairs, no displays.

  Tucker would have thought it was a joke of some kind, being dropped off in a totally empty building in a strange country, had it not been for the one car in the parking lot. That told him that someone was there, unless it was an elaborate practical joke.

  He was about to call out when he heard his name.

  “Captain Tucker Freeman?”

  “Um, yeah,” he replied, looking around.

  “Sorry I wasn’t down there to greet you,” the male voice said, then was followed by the sounds of footsteps.

  Tucker looked to his right and saw an Asian man in a JAXA jumpsuit coming down the open staircase. He held what looked like a metal suitcase and moved in a quick, upbeat pace.

  The man extended his hand to Tucker. “Samu Horato, you can call me Sam,” he introduced himself. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. My car is right out front. I told Marshman you could stay with me until we leave tomorrow for the base. Unless you’d feel more comfortable at a hotel.”

  “No, no. Not at all. That’s fine,” Tucker said. “I’m comfortable anywhere. So why did we meet here?”

  “I guess I could have met you elsewhere,” Sam said. “But this was nostalgia. Part of history, you know.”

  Tucker nodded.

  “And I had to get information, some files.”

  Tucker balked a little and gave a quirky smile. “There’s no security here. I’m surprised they left anything behind.”

  “They didn’t think anything of this.” He tapped the case. “It’s data. Old data.”

  “Old data?” Tucker asked. “How old?”

  “Like last century, the nineties.”

  Tucker whistled. “Yeah, that’s a little old. Though I can’t imagine what data from 1990 would be useful now.”

  Sam winked. “You’d be surprised. “

  “So are you the computer guy on this mission?” Tucker asked.

  “No, I’m the engineer. I actually designed the craft for the Robinson Mission.”

  “The Robinson Mission?” Tucker asked. “Is that what it’s called?”

  “It is.”

  “I wonder why.”

  Sam shrugged. “I didn’t name the mission, they did. I did name the ship though. It’s called The Lola.”

  “That’s an odd name for a ship.”

  “It’s a cool name.”

  “It’s also pretty impressive,” Tucker said. “Really. You designed the ship for this mission.”

  “No, I designed the ship, the mission f
ound me. Just like they found you. My accomplishments and theories. Which you will hear about tomorrow. But I think the ship is nothing compared to the Sharm. Now that’s impressive.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You had to have made a bundle from that. How rich did it make you?”

  “Rich?” Tucker said confused. “Was I supposed to make money from it?”

  Sam chuckled. “That’s funny.”

  “I wasn’t joking.”

  The smile dropped from Sam’s face. “For real?”

  “Yeah, it’s a humanity thing. Who makes money from saving humanity?”

  Sam started walking toward the door.

  “Wait,” Tucker said. “Did you make money from the Lola design?”

  “I made a ton of money. But that doesn’t matter now, does it? Let’s head out. We have an early flight tomorrow.” He pushed open the door.

  “Where are we going?” Tucker asked. “Or aren’t you at liberty to say?”

  “I’m not at liberty to say, but I’ll tell you anyhow. The base is located in the balmy paradise of Siberia.”

  That made Tucker laugh. “Okay, then don’t tell me.” He shook his head and followed Sam out. He figured that was Sam’s way of pacifying him, or telling a joke. After all, there was no such thing as the balmy paradise of Siberia.

  SIX

  Siberia

  Tucker really felt that Sam was perpetuating the joke when he kept saying, “The parka is a bit much.”

  Tucker smiled and thought how Sam must have really taken him for some country bumpkin. Anyone with a right mind would know that a parka was needed in Siberia.

  He had gotten to know Sam some the night before. They drank and talked. Sam was only a few years older than Tucker and Tucker envied him. He smiled and remained jovial even with his tragic life.

  “I was so excited,” Sam had told him. “My first mission up there was exploratory, basic, every space agency was doing them.” He pointed up as they sat on his balcony. “I went, only to come home and find an earthquake had wiped out our village. My wife, two kids, parents, everyone…gone. I wanted to go up there and never come back.”

  “Now you are,” Tucker told him.

  “Now I am. But I will tell you. I can’t wait to get back to Siberia. I was there two months ago, it was beautiful. If it wasn’t space, I’d go there and live. You don’t need a coat.”

  What a jokester, Tucker thought.

  Until, of course, he arrived.

  Suddenly, Tucker looked like a fool for not only carrying that coat but wearing a heavy sweatshirt.

  It was warm, balmy, and more than that, it was green.

  Marshman was there to greet them when they stepped off the private plane. He was a smaller man, balding with glasses. He extended his hand offering a warm handshake. “Didn’t Sam tell you about the weather?” He nodded to the coat Tucker carried.

  “Yeah, but I thought he was joking. It’s Siberia. When did things change?”

  “About six months ago,” Marshman replied. “Didn’t you know?”

  “I’m sorry I was bull balls deep in preparing to get selected for the Genesis, which I didn’t,” Tucker said.

  “But we have you and couldn’t be happier,” Marshman told him.

  “What exactly is this mission?” Tucker asked. “I’m here, so I guess you can tell me.”

  “Yes, yes, I can,” Marshman replied. “Let’s get your things inside, and I’ll explain.”

  <><><><>

  “Meet Lola,” Marshman said as they approached what looked like an airfield and the craft, Lola.

  Tucker didn’t need to ask if it was solar charged. Usually on the ships the solar panels retracted, but these covered the top of the tubular-shaped object which looked like a jumbo jet that had been cut in half, rather than something that would be ejected into space.

  While it was shorter than a plane, it was wider. The wheels kept it closer to the ground than Tucker had ever seen.

  “Okay…why is it so low?” Tucker asked.

  Sam explained, “After everyone boards and the engines start, it’ll lift.”

  Tucker nodded. “And how is this thing gonna get up there?”

  “My designed propulsion system. It didn’t work for the ARCs, but this, it works like a beaut. She’s been up there four times. You know, just some test runs. But she takes off like a jet.”

  “Enough power to punch through the atmosphere?” Tucker asked.

  Sam nodded. “Like the movies they used to make.”

  Tucker whistled. “Well, this is impressive. Why here? Why Siberia?”

  Marshman answered, “Global position, secrecy. We’ve been working on the Robinson for nine years.”

  “What kind of mission is it?” Tucker asked.

  “Like the Genesis, a colonist mission. It’s pretty much a one-way ticket, Captain Freeman,” Marshman said. “This is mainly a privately funded project.”

  “You said different countries,” Tucker said.

  “That’s true. Japan…” Marshman pointed to Sam. “The other three, Russia, the UK, and Germany, because they built this bad boy.” He cleared his throat. “Sorry. Girl.”

  “The UK, meaning you?” Tucker asked. “Will you be going along?”

  Marshman shook his head. “No, not me. I’m your control down here. Plus, I have too much family and I think I need to see what happens to the world.”

  “Now, I am not a continuity of mankind expert,” Tucker said, “but how are we gonna colonize with five people? Unless you’re just wanting to set up farming and technology for when the ARCs arrive.”

  “Yes. In a sense,” Marshman explained. “As you know the Genesis selection process was precise. Those selected, even the crew, had to have a specific skill set needed to set in place a long-term survival plan. A new world. They also agreed to be paired off with a procreation partner, how that will end up working out…” Marshman shrugged. “Who knows.”

  “This is much smaller,” Tucker said. “So we aren’t carrying fifty people like Genesis one and two.”

  Marshman shook his head. “No, we are not. We are carrying five crew and seventeen civilians.”

  That answer took Tucker by surprise. “Civilians?”

  “Much like the pilgrims did centuries ago. I said this is publicly funded. Money doesn’t mean much anymore, it doesn’t buy much except existence. Four families funded seventy-five percent of the mission. Each of these families gave every penny they had to survive and live on.”

  Sam clarified, “Families with children.”

  Tucker’s jaw dropped some. “There are children on this flight? Small children?” When he received confirmation, he shook his head with a chuckle. “I get it now. The Robinson. That’s why you named it the Robinson.”

  Sam looked at him curiously.

  “The Robinsons,” Tucker explained. “Lost in Space. It was a television show. One of the few they played after new network programing stopped.”

  Sam shook his head.

  “Lost in Space. The Robinsons were a family chosen to go live on another planet. In the remake it was because Earth was dying. Lost in Space Robinsons, Robinson Crusoe, swiss family Robinson. There’s a common element where a Robinson is stranded somewhere and has to survive. I’m looking at you and you are lost.”

  “I am,” Sam said.

  “I’ll explain later, however…” Tucker faced Marshman. “Do these people realize the risk? I mean if we have to turn around and come back, they’ll have nothing. We don’t even know if this planet Noah is habitable.”

  “We believe we do,” Marshman said.

  “How?” Tucker asked. “I mean we can speculate with pictures. But Omni-4 never returned. We don’t know.”

  “Actually,” Sam said, “we do. Follow me.”

  Sam turned and walked from the airfield.

  The control room didn’t look much more than a small computer room, with a tracking and radar screen no bigger than four foot wide.

  There was
one man who sat at the control counter, facing the computer.

  Maybe they were on skeleton crew until liftoff.

  Tucker hoped.

  Marshman introduced Tucker to Ray, the other engineer that would be seeing the flight off.

  “Pull up project NAT,” Marshman told Ray.

  “What is project NAT?” Tucker asked.

  Marshman pointed to Sam.

  “Project Needle and Thread,” Sam answered.

  “Another one of yours?” Tucker questioned.

  “Well, the redesign is,” Sam answered.

  “NASA has their own version of Needle and Thread. But I can bet NASA doesn’t have a Sam or his changes,” Marshman said.

  “Or,” Sam added, “our information.”

  “You don’t share?” Tucker asked.

  Marshman shook his head. “They refuse to acknowledge what we are doing as viable, so we won’t share our information.”

  “Which is?”

  “Everybody has put a probe through the Androski, it would be stupid not to,” Sam said. “But the probes weren’t coming back and transmitting any information. Then we attached a line to one.”

  “That’s pretty brilliant,” Tucker said.

  Marshman nodded. “It is and we did share that info. We were able to send the prob though and pull it back.”

  “But the problem,” Sam said, “was the only data we got, which we assume NASA received as well, was that there was some sort of power loss going through.”

  “So it was pretty much dead when you pulled it back?” Tucker questioned.

  “Yes,” Sam answered. “Then I did the readings and redesigned it two weeks ago. It was rigged together quickly because we just didn’t have enough of a window when the wormhole would be open to build a whole new one. Basically, I did my own version of a faraday cage, and it worked.”

  Tucker’s eyes widened. “It went though and collected data.”

  Sam nodded. “Yes, and that data will protect us. See, NASA knows there was a power loss going through, they have to. If they know that then they know Omni probably lost power for about fourteen to fifteen seconds.”