The Man Who Sold Mars (17 page)

Once they found out I had a full day
“off” once a week, I was a dead man.

In Selena’s new New York Penthouse Condo,
 a jewel sparkling with incomprehensible brilliance as if she dared the U.S.
government to take this one, her sister Catherine stood with her cell phone to
her ear.  “Hi!”

And, in Eden, in our home, every bit as
elegant as the one in New York, Selena stood with her cell phone to her ear. 
“Hi!”

“We’re on our way to the airport.  The
limo’s downstairs.”

Patricia very excited danced around her
aunt. “Let me talk to mom.  Let me talk to mom.”

“Patricia wants to talk to you.”

Catherine handed the phone to Patricia.

“Hi mom, I Love you.”

“I love you too.  See you soon.”

“C ya soon.  Bye.”

Patricia handed the phone back to
Catherine.  “I’m back.”

“Call me when you’re half an hour out of
Cebu.  I’ll come on one of our corporate jets to pick you up.”

“Thanks.  I’ll see you soon.”

“OK.”

In my Philippines office, Hemmingson,
George, Kevin, Gardner, Selena, Tot, and I watched a news broadcast of a rocket
attempting to take off.  It climbed about ten feet, then, as if sucked back by
the launch pad, crashed tail first, exploding with a brilliant display.

Hemmingson tossed some mixed nuts in his
mouth.  “Guess they won’t be stealing anymore of our technology soon.”

Selena was livid.  “You did not sabotage
their rocket?!”

We sat in silence.

“I want an answer. People could have
died.”

I answered for the group.  “No, we
didn’t.”

Kevin reached for a few nuts.  “We just
made certain the only plans or technology relatively, easily stolen are flawed
in ways they will never know.”

“Until”, Hemmingson said as he reached
for a sandwich.

Gardner said.  “SOP.” Then bit into a
corned beef sandwich.

Hemmingson translated, “Standard
Operating Procedures.” Then bit into his sandwich.  “Oh gross.  This is tongue. 
I thought it was roast beef.”

Tot keyed her notebook computer.  “I read
three other groups are using the world’s capital markets for space exploration
and dozens more for the seas.”

“Let them.”  Kevin pointed at a
sandwich.  “Roast beef.”

“Muchas Gracias.”  Hemmingson said then
picked it up.

Gardner reached for more nuts.  “It makes
our shares more lucrative.”

George lifted some slaw with his fork. 
“Proven versus unproven.”

I picked up a pickle spear.  “Non
speculative.”

Selena glared at us fuming.  I understood
why.  She was an angel.  But, I had to protect us.  “Selena, I know you’re
mad.  But we will not be the technological fluffer for the world again.  Ever. 
Ever.

Hemmingson corrected.  “We were more like
its cabin boy.”

Tatyana was shocked.  “That’s what they
used to do to cabin boys!  Those poor kids.”

Hemmingson added, “And we think altar
boys have it rough.  At least they can go home.  For a cabin boy, his home was
the ship’s captain’s cabin.”

Joshua entered with his laptop, sat at a
table, and turned it on.

I glanced at him.  “Are you hungry?”

“No thanks.”

I then addressed the group.  “Joshua’s
been working on a program for us.  We have military might to prevent one form
of hostile takeover.  And to a degree we are very vulnerable to another.”

George added more potato chips to his
plate.  “We have so much stock out there, that someone really motivated could
amass enough to launch a hostile corporate takeover.  In fact, I think they’re
working on it.”

Kevin reached for a tongue sandwich.  His
favorite.  “What about our treasury stock?”

I finished chewing and swallowing some
olives.  “We have a substantial amount, but the interest we control in YSR is
far from the majority.  It’s controlling.”

Gardner removed the top from a liverwurst
sandwich and a corned beef and combined the two meaty halves.  “We can fight an
economic battle.  We have enough treasury stock to retire the national debt of
Europe.  But we had to sell a lot to pay for all this and to replace what we
lost with the governmental takeovers.”

George speared a couple of olives with
his fork.  “As you know, we long ago settled the compensation proceedings with
them, but their paying in installments, so we don’t have the true costs of that
loss to help us defend against an immediate takeover threat.  We do have our
personal wealth.  But if their determined to make a hostile takeover with
access to the world’s capital markets, we could be in for a serious battle.”

Joshua keyed his laptop.  “You should be very
worried.  We’ve tracked large, unusual movements of YSR stock and it’s been
going on for a while.  It could just be a prudent investor.”

Thinking and strategizing George said,
“And it could be something worse a raider.  It would be ironic after all the
companies we took over against their will to have it done to us.”

“True.”  I said.  “We’ve already started
economic warfare.  Manipulating our stocks value for rapid, extraordinary
climbs to slow acquisition by requiring more capitol.”

Joshua spoke a truth.  “But, it’s not
slowing the acquisition.”

Selena’s Cell Phone rang.  She glanced at
it.  “Excuse me, I have to answer this.  It’s Catherine.”  She did and spoke
into it.  “Hi.”

On a commercial airliner in flight,
Catherine and Patricia sat in their own little realm within first class, while
Catherine holding her phone, talked with Selena, and Patricia chatted with some
children her age.

“Hi, they just told us, we’ll land in
Cebu in 30 minutes.”

“Great.  I’ll see you soon.  Someone will
meet you the instant you leave the jet and bring you to us.”

“Ok.—But, our luggage.”

“I’ve got it covered.  Don’t worry.”

“OK.”

Catherine saw Patricia watching her,
excited, and bursting with the desire to speak with her mom.  “Hold on please. 
Patricia wants to talk to you.”

Catherine handed her the phone and watched
the flight engineer hurried and stressed exit the cockpit.

“Mom, I was online and saw some great
places for diving.  And I want to go to Manila and — oh the silversmith school
in Baguio.  The work they do there is amazing.”

A high whining rumble rose from behind
Patricia, coming from the rear of the jet.  It was so high, it could be heard
through the cell and we riveted our concerned attention on her.

Selena asked Patricia, “What’s that?”

Very concerned she said, “I don’t kno—“

Black smoke billowed into the jet’s cabin
and in an instant an orange prismatic fireball rumbled through it.

Patricia screamed.

Selena’s cell phone disconnected the
call.  And panicked, she attempted to dial.

Soft I asked.  “What’s wrong?”

Selena didn’t answer.  She was unable to
reconnect with Catherine, reaching only her voice mail.  Fearful she walked
towards one of the large wall monitors.  “Pull up Cebu air traffic.”

We accessed it and saw a jet’s emergency
beacon going off indicating longitude, latitude and what transitioned rapidly from
altitude to depth.

We all knew what it meant.

Disbelieving, Selena walked closer to the
screen.  Believing, but not wanting to believe, Selena said.  “This can’t be
right.”

She and the rest of us fell deathly
silent and then with a scream, Selena acknowledged the answer we all dreaded. 
She continued crying hysterically and I took her in my arms.

Kevin reached for a phone, “It’s me. 
Have security access Cebu Air Traffic Control.  There’s been a crash.  Get
everything we have out there now for rescue operations.”

Gardner picked up his cell and dialed,
while Tot came to Selena, who was collapsing, to hold her in her arms along
with me.

Tearing soft to himself, Hemmingson
said.  “Rescue?  More like diving and salvage.”

The sun retreating behind us, a fleet of
fast moving foil borne YSR patrol hydrofoils and hovercrafts streaked over the
Pacific, as a Young Stellar Resources helicopter closed in on the helo deck of
the lead hydrofoil and other YSR helicopters flash ahead, while I and the cadre
exited.

In what seemed an eternity, later, on the
deck of the nearly stopped hydrofoil, in my arms and Tot’s, Selena cried
hysterically, watching the jet’s crash site strewn over miles, disappearing
over the horizon; a bobbing debris field of oil; jet fragments; clothing;
luggage; . . . and mangled, fractured corpses that were once a jet, its
passengers, and her loves.

Helpless, sad friends – Tot, Hemmingson,
George, Kevin, I and Gardner – looked on.

Sharpshooters on our hydrofoil and other
boats shot sharks rising to feed on the fragmented remains of the recently
departed, in a futile effort to aid the rescue workers retrieving broken and
charred bodies from the warm Pacific waters, as the red blood from the sharks
drew more in a cycle of shooting and attraction.

In the late evening, on the hydrofoil, I
sat next to my bed, taking a break from reading to glance at Selena and teared,
as sedated she cried in her sleep as she lay beside me.

A soft, soft knock on my cabin door
begged to be answered.

And in a soft response I said, “Come in.”

Tot gently walked in, stood behind me and
wrapped her arms around me, leaving them draped around my neck.  I kissed her
on the arm, while she watched Selena and she too teared.

With a soft voice she asked.  “How is
she?”

“Not good.  The doctor gave her a shot of
something.  She’ll be out for a while.”

“It’s got to be hard losing two people
you love that much at the same time.”

“More than I hope you will ever know.”

Tatyana looked at me and had a sudden
epiphany about me, my life and my motivations, then in silence, mentally
debated many heavy things.

“Young man you have four mistresses in
your life.  And for you that’s three too many.”

“Four?”

“One who doesn’t want you or need you.”

I thought who that might be.  I realized
it was a what.  “Mars.”

“Another, who doesn’t need you anymore.”

I thought and realized that this mistress
was also a thing.  “YSR.”

“One who doesn’t need you, but will
always want you.  And one who will always want you and always need you.”

Sad, Tot kissed me on the top of my head,
shedding a few tears on me as she did so.

I could feel her heart break as did mine.

“Be very good to her.”

“Tot again kissed me on my head and
left.”

Selena, George, Tatyana, Hemmingson and
his princesses, Kevin, Gardner, Sunny, I, and the remaining 43 members of The
Group and others stood in mourning clothes on the deck of a large YSR
hovercraft, as a Catholic priest said prayers and a vast squadron of YSR
helicopters covered the sea with flowers.

Later that day, within a massive hangar, in
a lavish ceremony, Selena broke a magnum of champagne across the bow of The
Mars Transit Vehicle destined to Mars, christening it The Patricia &
Catherine Luce.

As the day ended, Selena stood on my
balcony, silently tearing, watching the sunset on the Pacific.  Silent, and
heartbroken with her loss—our loss, I stepped onto it behind her, watched her
for a while, then walked up behind her and took her in my arms to watch the
setting sun in the cool island breeze and hold my greatest treasure.

And that night, feeling she was awake, I
awoke, kissed her and took my love in my arms.  Beyond sad, she snuggled
against him.

I kissed her again.  “Want to try another
first?”

Selena shook her head no.

“When this happened to me, you were there
for me.  You’ve always been.  You put your life on hold.  I don’t know what I
would have done.  In my entire life, I have never been on a vacation except
through you.  I’m a peasant.  If it wasn’t for you, my place would have been
barren and filled with cave drawings of men hunting bison and saber tooth
tigers, that I drew on the walls myself.”

Selena gave a startled laugh that
surprised her.

“The first that I would like is to see
all those remarkable places you’ve told me of with my eyes through the eyes of
the woman I love.”

Selena grinned with a smile mixed with
sadness, lost and deep, deep love.