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  It had happened shortly after he left.

  Why did he leave so early? Why didn’t he just stay and die with them?

  More than anything he wanted to rip off his headgear and suffocate like they did, join them, but something stopped him, and he didn’t.

  Nathan undid Gin-Gin’s seat restraints and lifted her into his arms. He sobbed from the depths of his soul as he cradled her in his arms.

  He didn’t know at that moment why he chose to live instead of die. Later on it would come to him. Nathan had to keep going, keep fighting. He had to work to make a difference, a change, at least find a way to predict an event before it happened. If he could save one father from feeling the pain of holding his lifeless child, then his daughter and his parents’ death would not be in vain.

  Part Three: The Mission

  NINE

  The simulators did nothing to give Rey an accurate portrayal of the Omni-4. It was breathtaking and huge when she stepped into it the first time, the day before the mission.

  It reminded her of an old movie. The world was about to be destroyed by a meteor and a team of misfits were sent into space to divert it. In the movie, the night before the mission seemed ominous and pivotal to those misfits risking their lives.

  For the most part, the crew of The Noah Mission weren’t misfits, they were capable, experienced people. Rey was the misfit, and not a single member of the crew made her feel that way.

  She had the nervousness of the movie crew, the fear, she didn’t think she was risking her life. That thought didn’t cross her mind until the night before.

  The day had been filled with final tidbits of information. More training in the simulator followed by a final magnificent dinner. A tender steak she could cut with a fork, a lobster tail so juicy it melted like butter; Rey felt like a prisoner on death row enjoying her last meal.

  Then she stepped for the first time into the Omni-4. It appeared wide on the outside, but interiorly it seemed narrow. It was nowhere near as big as it looked. It reminded her so much of an airplane. Everything about it was like a plane, only, much smaller. Gone were the days of the space suit and heavy helmets, the new craft was designed to eliminate that. After the recognizable nose of the craft, the rest of it was more triangular. A good portion was cargo and the rear sides were thick from the solar panels. The front end was no bigger than an airplane cockpit. Three seats lined up behind each of the two pilot chairs with a thin aisle in the middle. Behind those seats was the kitchen area, similar to the galley on a plane. There was a sleeping area after that, if it could even be called that. The beds were more like shelves, reminding Rey of luggage compartments in a plane, stacked up on top of each other. Rey was told the flight was short and the only time she’d sleep in one of those was if the Noah planet wasn’t conducive enough to sustain life. To which Nathan Gale replied, “Then why bother staying?”

  But the answer to that was simple. The Noah planet obviously had a sun. The Omni would need to land, eject its solar panels and regenerate the fuel cells for takeoff. The Omni took off much like a plane, but with higher speed, and unlike an airplane was able to penetrate into the mesosphere.

  Even the fantastic dinner, the drinks and the long day didn’t help Rey feel tired enough to sleep. She found herself putting on her NASA work T-shirt, pants, and sporting a pair of flip flops, then decided to leave the housing building and take a walk.

  No one stopped her.

  It was pretty busy on base. There were vehicles moving about along with people walking, even at one in the morning. Giant lights in the distance, much like those on a football field, were a guiding point. She knew they were lighting up the area where they were preparing the Omni for the late morning takeoff.

  She walked toward the area to watch. They were loading more items into the back of the Omni. Rey stood there for a while until the air felt as if it were chilling.

  When she turned around, she heard a voice, almost like a talk radio and saw the open door on one of the hangers. Walking by it, she peeked in and then stopped.

  It was astonishing.

  The entire hanger looked like a holograph for the solar system, the outlined images seemingly dangled in the air. Nate walked from a table of computers over to the images, and using his hands in a swiping manner, brought the earth into center view. He then zoomed in on the outline of Asia and a pulsing yellow light. He shook his head, then looked left to the sun. When he turned his body he spotted Rey.

  “Can I help you?” he asked.

  “I’m sorry. I am. I was walking by and I saw … and I apologize.”

  “No need. I was just working.”

  “This is amazing in here,” Rey said. “Can I ask what all this is?”

  “Sort of like my way of taking it all in. Would you like to come and take a look?”

  Rey nodded and followed him in.

  Nate walked over and shut off the voice sound bites. It sounded like newscasters but only snippets of the news.

  “Interesting choice to listen to,” she said.

  “That’s my selection.”

  “For?”

  “Two weeks ago, I was part of a time capsule program. Before in my life, I thought they were silly. You know, why put stuff in a tube or box and bury it for the future to find? I mean, wouldn’t we have history books, internet? Now I find them imperative. One day, someone from the future or even another planet will find the time capsule and know who lived here. How we lived and loved.”

  “And who Bill Clinton and Ronald Reagan were.”

  “That …” He waved his finger. “Was my contribution. I put in soundbites of as many presidents as I could get. The future may not know who or what the presidents were. I think I explained it.”

  “Strange you didn’t put in music,” she said.

  “I probably would have had I not stopped listening to music two years ago.”

  “You stopped listening to music? Altogether?”

  “I didn’t listen on purpose,” he replied. “I guess it’s silly, but any song, rock, oldies, country, it didn’t matter, every single song made me think of the family I lost. No matter what the song, I always heard something in the lyrics, so I stopped listening.”

  “That makes sense. I’m sorry you lost your family,” Rey said.

  “I’m sorry you lost yours.”

  “Thank you.” She took a deep breath. “Now, tell me what all this is.” She pointed to the planets.

  “I wanted to work a little more before we left.” Nate walked over to the center of the solar system hologram. “Silly as it sounds, I vowed when my daughter died that I would figure out what is happening to this world and do what I could to stop it. Or at least play a part.”

  “It doesn’t sound silly to me.”

  “Yeah, well, here I am. Two years later and I’m no closer.” He tossed out his hand. “Just when I think I know what’s going on, it changes. Just when I think I can predict the next huge event, I can’t. None of it makes sense.”

  “I don’t understand,” Rey said. “I thought it was just nature saying it’s time.”

  “In a sense that’s true. However, nature doesn’t work the way it’s happening. The world doesn’t just wake up one day and say, hey, there’s gonna be some devastating changes and in a hundred years it’s gonna be a different world. And at the rate it’s increasing per day a hundred years is generous. Global changing, continental changing events like this take thousands, tens of thousands of years, not a hundred.”

  ‘Maybe … and I’m not the scientist here, maybe it’s been happening and we just didn’t notice it.”

  “I’d say that’s true, if it continued on a path. But it hasn’t, it’s been over the past three years. I mean, we have a population of seven billion plus that’s been cut by a billion people.” He pointed to the hologram diagram of the earth, spinning it as he spoke. “Earthquakes, sea levels rising, underwater volcanic eruptions that are unprecedented, events like what happened to your family, ten-foot mudslides o
ut of nowhere. Events that took mine. Freshwater lake limnic eruptions. These things had no precedence. Earth isn’t in some sort of cycle. I feel it. I just can’t prove it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean something else is causing all this to happen. That’s my theory. The sun, the moon … something … something out there. Every day I look. I stare for hours and every day I come up blank.”

  “In the solar system?” she asked.

  Nate nodded.

  “Wouldn’t you see it, though? I mean, all the satellites, the space station, this …” She pointed to his hologram display.

  “Unfortunately, taking in all that we have out here”—he pointed—“we can only see ten percent of the sky at any time. That’s all we can monitor.”

  Rey snickered.

  “What’s funny?”

  “I don’t mean to laugh, but I was just thinking of a movie that said the same thing about monitoring only ten percent of the sky. So you think something out there”—she indicted—“in all this vastness is causing this?”

  “I do.”

  “Well, one good thing: in twelve hours you’re gonna get a better look. Maybe you’ll see it.”

  “Maybe,” he said looking at his display before he shut it down. “I can only hope.”

  TEN

  Curt tapped his pen from tip to end as he contemplated what he would write. To him it was a special journal entry. The last one before he went on The Noah Mission.

  He sat at the desk by the window in his room, sipping on his ‘allowed’ amount of bourbon. He saw Rey walking away and wondered where she was going in the middle of the night. Then probably figured she was just restless like he was.

  Everyone’s demeanor was different at dinner. Almost solemn.

  When he had that thought it was then he realized what his opening would be.

  May 14

  I wonder if the feeling at dinner was more nerves, or perhaps some sort of group premonition of something going terribly wrong.

  I joke a lot, but I'm scared of this mission. This is the biggest one yet.

  Three of our team have only had knowledge of this mission for months. One crew member for only a couple of weeks. Everyone on the team is supposed to pull their weight one way or another. That is how we will complete this with success and safety. I can’t figure out what she will contribute. Her knowledge of wormholes is fiction based. She has no other skills other than what we have taught her.

  Even with her lack of ability, Finch and I are a strong combination. We have been training for years. Long before the Noah was discovered. We were training when there was no destination planet. In fact, a part of me feels as if I have been training for this mission my entire life.

  Each member of the crew has limited or no emotional ties. I, myself, seem to have pushed people away for as long as I can remember. Perhaps my way to ensure no one will miss me or mourn should I not return.

  My general concern is that. Not death. We are going to an unknown, unchartered planet. The possibility exists that we may not return. Something about this whole thing feels off. I haven’t spoken my concerns out loud, but the worry is there.

  He exhaled, leaned back in his chair and lifted his glass. He noticed Finch standing in his doorway, arms folded, staring in what looked like a judgmental way.

  “What’s up?” Curt asked.

  “Your door was open,” Finch said.

  “Wow, really, I didn’t notice,” Curt said sarcastically. “What do I owe this middle-of-the-night visit to?”

  “You know, you’re not supposed to …” He pointed to Curt’s drink.

  “I’m within my limits.”

  “Do you know them?”

  “Colonel, really?” Curt snapped his chair forward. “What was that about?”

  “I know how stressful this is. And given your past and the—”

  “Stop.” Curt held up his hand. “I’m good. Thank you for your concern. Yes, this is stressful. I’m handling it. Well. Thank you. No worries.” He brought his drink to his lips.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Not a problem.” He sipped. “Again, what brings you here, other than to check on my drinking habits?”

  “I saw your door open and I just wanted to let you know I ran a check on the cargo. I inspected the cargo and seals. Everything is loaded in.”

  “Everything?”

  Finch nodded.

  “Jibs?”

  “That’s pretty much what most of the cargo is. Curt, I inspected and noticed one of the jibs was a case of bourbon. It said Walt authorized it for you.”

  “He did. It’s in a jib, right? Well, isn’t that what the jibs are for. Just in case boxes. If we get stranded, I want that, just in case.”

  “That makes sense. I’ll leave you be. I just wanted to update you. Try to get some rest.”

  “Colonel.”

  Finch stopped before leaving. “Yes?”

  “I know I wasn’t your first choice for this mission as your co-pilot. You make no bones about that. I want you to know, you can be confident in me.”

  “Curt, listen, we have been working on this mission together for years now. You’re right, you weren’t my first choice. But you are my partner in this, and I trust you.”

  “Do you? Because sometimes it seems like you don’t and … that you don’t like me much.”

  “I like you just fine. The only problem I have is that you showboat. You’re all about the attention. Sexiest man alive gets ready to save the world but stops to save a woman.”

  “I don’t put myself out there to save people for the attention,” Curt said. “I do it so there’s one less person that will die in this mess.”

  “And tomorrow you’ll embark on a mission that will hopefully cause millions less people to die in this mess. Enjoy your night cap. Good night.”

  “Good night.” Curt listened to Finch’s footsteps fading, and when he knew he was far enough away, he stood, walked to his door and closed it. After that, he returned to what little remained of his drink and to writing in his journal.

  North Dakota

  Tucker Freeman knew something big was on the horizon when the government started buying the land and farms around his place. Tucker never got an offer, probably because he had the biggest barley output in all the dusty prairie.

  Of course, at first, no one knew it was the government. Just some people in fancy cars and suits making outrageous offers. Until the checks arrived and they were made out from good old Uncle Sam.

  Regis Stone was a bragger. He rushed over to Tucker’s place to show him the check.

  “Twice as much as my place is worth,” Regis said.

  “That’s a lot of money. What are you gonna do with it?”

  “Move to Florida.”

  And that he did. Regis and his family made a beeline for the sunshine state. That was before half the state was under water. If Regis stood before him now, Tucker would have to ask, “How’s that working out for you, ya cocky arrogant bastard?”

  Even after everyone moved from their homes, nobody was aware of why the land was needed.

  There was lots of speculation, but the only thing that was remotely close to a good guess was when everyone said they were building a mall.

  The big giant fences went up and encircled every bit of land they could. Then huge trucks hauled in spotlights.

  When groundbreaking began, Tucker was certain it was a mall. It irritated him at first. Why would they build one in the middle of nowhere? Then he started getting angry with the bright lights that lit up the horizon at the end of his property, and the sounds of construction in the middle of the night.

  Once Tucker realized what it was, he was excited about it. At forty-two years old, he himself would probably not live to see it serve its purpose, but he was able to watch it being built. It was one of the ARCs that would take people from Earth to a new home.

  The large platform was the reason Tucker thought it was a mall, and then they began th
e ARC. He took pictures every day. After a year, he became a fixture. People knew him, waved to him.

  The ARC was not what he imagined. The skeleton of it was as big as nearly two football fields, and eight stories high. The shape of it reminded him of a cruise ship. Only it rounded off on top like a football.

  He was told by one of the workers the structure itself would take ten years; that was just the structure, that wasn’t factoring in anything else. They hadn’t even designed a working and feasible propulsion system.

  Watching the ARC was his sunrise and sunset routine. He loved seeing the sun lower behind the structure. It gave him a chance to feel hope for the future in leu of all the disasters and deaths.

  “How many people, Pappy?” Nilly, his granddaughter, asked as they sat on the tractor before starting morning chores.

  “Ten, fifteen thousand. I don’t know,” he said.

  “Where is it going to go?’

  “Up there.” He pointed to the sky. “Tomorrow there will be a group of people going into space to check out a planet just like this one. That ship, when it’s finished, will take people there too.”

  “What about the people left behind.”

  “Well, Nilly Jane, those left behind, they may have it a little easier. Less people, less fighting about food. They hope by the time this goes up, the disasters will have stopped.”

  “Will you go?” she asked.

  “Not me. It’s gonna be fifty years. If I am still on this earth, there won’t be room for an old man. You … you’ll be just a little older than I am now. You have a chance.”

  “I won’t go,” she said folding her arms.

  “Why not?”

  “This is where I live. I don’t want to go somewhere else. I want to stay here. I bet lots of people feel that way.”

  “You’re right. However, honey”—he leaned down and kissed her on the forehead—“people, at this point don’t have a choice.”

  “Will we see the spaceship in the sky today?” Nilly asked.

  “We may. Even if we don’t we should keep them in our thoughts. Maybe say a prayer.”