(Based on characters in The Lightning in the Collied Night)
October 21, 2054
Arnaud Houde was awakened by Wagner’s Ride of the Valkyries, which was the ring tone for the retired aerospace executive’s hPhone. The elderly man had dozed off while enjoying the warm sunshine and panoramic view of the Mediterranean Sea from his villa’s patio on a beautiful afternoon in Nice. He glanced down at the phone lying beside him on the sofa cushion and saw Katherine Etter on Caller ID. “Accept call—voice only,” he told Sirai as he straightened up on the sofa. “Bonjour, Katherine! To what do I owe the pleasure of your call this fine day?”
“Bonjour, Arnaud,” Katherine replied. “Thank you for taking my call.”
Houde had known Katherine for over 12 years, and he could immediately tell from her quiet, somber tone that all was not well with her. “But of course, Katherine. I’ve been meaning to call you, anyway, to ask how the two Voyageur IVs I loaned to your project are working out for you.” Four months earlier, Houde had agreed to donate two of the most advanced spacecraft from his aerospace giant InfiniTrek to the Prometheus Project that Katherine led. Katherine couldn’t tell Houde how the two ships would be used by the Top Secret project, but he’d deduced that it involved a risky exploration of the Wagamese Wormhole, one billion miles from Earth—and perhaps a leap into Earth’s future.
“That’s why I’m calling, Arnaud. I’m afraid I have bad news about that.” Katherine paused. “One of the ships you loaned to us is… gone.”
An interesting choice of words… “gone,” not “destroyed.” “I’m very sorry to hear that, Katherine. If anyone was on board, I hope they’re safe.”
“Arnaud, I… you know I can’t reveal any details about the project.” But Arnaud knew from Katherine’s subdued voice that there likely had been someone on board.
“Yes, I understand. How about your project? Can you continue with the remaining ship, albeit without a backup?” Perhaps she’s going to ask me for a replacement ship.
“The Prometheus Project has been terminated, Arnaud.” Houde heard despair and exhaustion in Katherine’s voice. “But, the remaining ship, Chronos 4, is intact—unused, in fact. Under the terms of our agreement, I need to arrange for its return to InfiniTrek—as soon as possible.” When Houde had consented to Katherine’s plea for two Voyageur IV craft, it had been with his condition that any ships that remained would be returned. “A NASA semi-trailer can deliver it to any InfiniTrek facility you specify.”
“All right. I’ll ask our Logistics director to contact you regarding details.” Houde paused. “I’m sorry about the project, Katherine. I know what it meant to you and your team.” And perhaps far beyond that, Houde thought. “Do you know what you’ll do now?”
“I don’t know, Arnaud. But, I think I need to take some time off… consider what I want to do next.”
“Yes—you should do that, Katherine.” Over the years, Houde had come to consider Katherine as a friend—one of his very few friends. Most people despised the InfiniTrek founder for his abrasive, even abusive, personality. And not without cause, he reflected wryly. But for some reason, Katherine has always been kind and forgiving toward me. “Perhaps some travel… ‘get away from it all,’ for a while.”
“That’s a good idea, Arnaud. Maybe I’ll do that. Thanks. And, thank you for your generous gift of the ships. I just… I wish it had turned out differently.”
“As do I, Katherine.” I need to check with my COO about our need for project directors. “Let me call the Logistics director now; I’ll have her contact you about returning the ship to InfiniTrek. And, when you have time, please let me know how you’re doing. All right?”
“I’ll do that, Arnaud. Thank you again, for everything. Goodbye.”
“Au revoir, Katherine.” Houde, deep in thought, looked out at the late afternoon sun glinting on the wavetops. He decided what he wanted to do. “Sirai, call Mae Isler in Baton Rouge—voice only.”
“Calling,” Sirai replied in its French-accented female voice.
“Hello, Arnaud,” the familiar voice of InfiniTrek’s Logistics director said through the phone’s speaker. “It’s been a while. How are you?”
“Bonjour, Mae. I’m doing well, thank you. I have a request for you—and a question.”
“What do you need, Arnaud?”
“First, the question… are you aware of any openings we have for project directors, now or in the near future?”
“Hmm, let me think… I don’t know of any. But I’m not always in the loop on such things.”
“I understand. Thank you, anyway.” I will have to check with our COO about that. “And now, my request: could you please call Dr. Katherine Etter today regarding the return of a Voyageur IV from her project to InfiniTrek?”
“I remember Dr. Etter. I worked with her and our factory manager to expedite delivery of two IVs for her project last summer. That was a short project! I wonder what happened to the other ship?”
“We’ll never know. It was a Top Secret project.”
“Oh, right. Okay… where should I tell her to deliver it? The main warehouse in Baton Rouge?”
“No. Please give them the details for Warehouse Seven.”
“That’s in the middle of nowhere, Arnaud! May I ask, why there?”
Houde smiled faintly. “I have my reasons. Is that warehouse available?”
“Checking… yes, it is. It’s for overflow, and we haven’t needed it yet. I’ll call Dr. Etter right away. Is there anything else, Arnaud?”
“Yes. Please have the ship ‘mothballed,’ such that it could be readied for use again quickly… if it should ever be needed.” And if my guess about the purpose of the Prometheus Project was correct, it might very well be needed again, someday.
“Uh, okay.” Isler seemed surprised. “That will cost a pretty penny, Arnaud. We’ve never done that with a Voyageur. I don’t know if the Logistics discretionary account can cover it.”
“Don’t worry about it, Mae. I’ll cover the cost personally.”
“All right, then. I’ll make arrangements.”
“Thank you.” Then he added something he seldom, if ever, said to those in his employ. “I’m grateful for your help with this matter… and for all of your exceptional work over the years.”
“Glad to be of help, Arnaud.” A hint of surprise had crept back into her voice. “I’ll call Dr. Etter now. Goodbye, sir.”
“Au revoir, Mae.” Houde turned his head to speak into his watch. “Henri, could you please have two bottles of the Dom Pérignon Brut ’34 shipped to Logistics Director Mae Isler at her home address? I’ll send you a note to include in the box shortly.” Henri was Houde’s long time house manager.
“Yes, sir. I’ll take care of that right away,” Henri replied with his thick French accent.
“Merci beaucoup, Henri.” Houde sat back on the sofa for a few moments, thinking about his conversations with Katherine and Mae. Yes, that ship may be needed again at some point… but I may not be here when it is. “Sirai, call Jean-Luc Verrill—voice only.”
“Calling,” Sirai replied.
“Bonjour, Arnaud!” Verrill’s booming voice burst from the phone’s speaker. “What kind of trouble are you in this time?” Houde knew his long-time personal attorney was kidding—Probably kidding, Houde thought with a slight smile.
“And a good afternoon to you, also, Jean-Luc,” Houde rejoined. “Believe it or not, I’m not in trouble this time. I suppose I’m getting too old for that sort of thing.” Old… and tired…
“That’s a relief!” Verrill chuckled. “Then, tell me—what can I do for you?”
“A simple matter, really. I need to add a codicil to my will.”
“Oh? Do you have still more money you’d like to bequeath?” Now Houde, one of the world’s wealthiest people, was certain that Verrill was joking with him.
“No, not money—property.”
“What sort of property?”
“A spaceship. I’ll send you the details tomorrow.”
“Spaceship? I’ve never done a codicil to bequeath a spaceship. That will be interesting. I think I can get that done by the end of next week. Is that soon enough?”
“That’s fine, Jean-Luc. There’s no rush. Thank you… my friend.” In the nearly 40 years Houde had known Jean-Luc Verrill, he’d never called him friend.
“Don’t mention it.” He paused. “Are you all right, Arnaud? How are you feeling these days?” He knew that Houde had recently retired, except for continuing as board chair of InfiniTrek, due to health issues.
“I’m doing all right. Thank you for asking, Jean-Luc.” In truth, Houde’s health had deteriorated in recent months. “You and Zoé should come for a visit soon. The weather is very pleasant in Nice this time of year.” Houde had never before invited Verrill and his wife to stay at his seaside villa.
“Thank you, Arnaud. I’d like that, and I think Zoé would enjoy a break from Paris. I’ll ask her about it and check with Henri about dates, all right?”
“Perfect. I look forward to it. Give my best to Zoé.” Houde had met Verrill’s wife only twice—and he recalled, sadly, that he’d not made a positive impression on her.
“I’ll do that. Au revoir, Arnaud.”
“Au revoir, Jean-Luc.”
As Houde closed his eyes and rested from his flurry of activity over the past hour, he couldn’t have known that his will, and the codicil he’d asked his attorney to draft for him, would never be opened. And thus Chronos 4 would sit for many decades in a warehouse that wasn’t on any map, in a desolate area of West Texas. Sitting—and waiting—for an errand of mercy that might never happen.
(Image courtesy of Freepik)
