Extraterrestrial Refugees
Chapter Sixteen

Gemma’s eyes kept wandering to the canopy near the bottom of the ramp. She kept expecting to see Oscar’s familiar face there, but he never appeared. Charles and the man who had her arrested were the only two faces she recognized in the group waiting to receive the president. The air and ground was flooded with heavily-armed security.

Jeff Killian placed himself beside Gemma and her fellow council members to greet President Victor Dawson and the other important people when they arrived. He had cooperated with the president’s security team and did all he could to ensure their requests were fulfilled. The campers, food trucks and parking area had all been pushed back farther away from the spaceship. The fenced perimeter had also been expanded. More military personnel had been brought in and the skies were being patrolled. Everyone who waited to receive the esteemed visitors had to go through a security check to make sure they were unarmed.

President Dawson arrived in his private helicopter. The Secret Service poured out of it as it landed, scanning their surroundings, hands hovering over their concealed weapons. They motioned to the president which way he should walk. The president’s wispy white hair was tossed by the wind the helicopter created as he approached the bottom of the ramp. Charles was the first to walk out and greet him. He escorted the president to the ramp.

Dawson looked up into Gemma’s face. Wrinkles appeared at the corners of his eyes as he smiled at her while shaking her hand. “Gemma. It’s a pleasure to meet you. And I must say, you’re even more stunning in real life.”

“Thank you, Mr. President,” she said. “Allow me to introduce you to my colleagues.” She introduced them one by one.

“Clarence,” Dawson began, “I’m somewhat of a pilot myself, and I would love to hear more about what it’s like to fly something as massive as this.” He made a visor with his hand and looked up at the top of the looming ship. “It’s truly remarkable.”

“I would be happy to show you the cockpit,” Clarence said.

“Excellent.” He turned to Jeff. “I understand you’re Jeff Killian, the landowner here?” He shook Jeff’s hand.

“Yes, sir, I am,” Jeff said.

“I understand you’re making quite the killing selling tickets for spaceship tours.” Dawson pointed a finger at Jeff. “Hope you’re planning on paying your taxes in full,” he said with a laugh. Jeff chuckled nervously.

“Of course I am. Can’t forget to give dear Uncle Sam his slice of the pie.”

Dawson chuckled softly, then turned back to Clarence. He pointed at his uncle. “I’m so sorry about your foot. I’ve been fighting hard to change the gun situation in this country, but unfortunately Congress has been fighting equally as hard against me.”

Clarence, leaning on his crutch so as not to put any weight on his injured ankle, looked down at his foot. “Oh, the only person I hold responsible for this misfortune is the man who pulled the trigger.”

“Yes, well, I trust you heard we got him?”

“I did, indeed.”

“If you like, you could testify against him.”

Clarence exchanged a glance with Gemma. “You know? I’ve got bigger things to worry about right now, but… thank you.”

“Yes, I suppose you do.” He held out his arms. “Don’t we all? You’re planning on very nearly doubling the world’s population, right?” He inhaled through his teeth and shook his head. “I mean, that’s going to be an incredible feat.”

One of the president’s bodyguards leaned closer and said, “Sir, we worry your safety could be jeopardized the longer we stand out here in the open.”

“Ah,” Dawson said. “The Secret Service wants me to not be so exposed. May we?” He gestured toward the gate with his hand.

“Of course,” Clarence said. “Gemma, would you mind taking President Dawson in while we wait for the others?”

Gemma agreed with a smile, as she always did. She did a lot of things she didn’t want to do, all because she knew it was for so many more people than just herself. President Dawson held out his elbow to escort her. She looked at it for a second before linking her arm with his, which she did only because she felt it was the polite thing to do.

“You really do look amazing today,” Dawson said as they began walking up the ramp. Gemma felt like she was leading an army in and six Secret Service men came along and another dozen soldiers followed them.

“Your wife didn’t want to come?” Gemma inquired, nodding at the golden ring Dawson wore on his left ring finger.

“Nah, she’s not very adventurous these days. She prefers to see these things on the television from the comfort of her own home.”

“That’s a shame. It would have been nice to meet her.”

“I’m sure we could arrange something. Dinner at the White House, perhaps?”

“Now that would be an honor. Do you enjoy living in the White House?”

“Oh, best part about being president of the United States,” Dawson said with a raspy chuckle. “It’s elections this November though. I might just be kicked out of my home come January.”

When they reached the door, four of the soldiers insisted on entering first. They held their weapons at the ready and walked in, followed by the others. Justine stood there with her family, each holding a tray of delicate pastries topped with berries. She offered some to everyone as they came in. Most of them gratefully accepted.

“That was very delicious, thank you,” President Dawson complimented. He pointed at the pile of donations to the right. “Aren’t the American people so generous?”

Justine smiled. “They are indeed. My children have enjoyed sampling some American food.”

He looked at the three kids and smiled. “Is that right? Have you guys discovered a favorite yet? I’ll bet it’s Cheeto’s isn’t it? My favorite was always PB&J when I was a kid. A true, American classic. Have you tried that yet?”

Watching his exchange with Justine’s kids was heartwarming as well as confusing. On the one hand, the man seemed like a total creep, and on the other, he was just a friendly grandpa. The confusion was infuriating. President Dawson shook each of the kids’ hands and then stepped over to Gemma again. “Are all the Tatooine kids this cute?” he asked. One of his Secret Service men leaned in.

“Tetranese, sir,” he corrected. Dawson glanced over his shoulder at him and raised an eyebrow.

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“Uh, I believe you said something from Star Wars,” the man replied. Dawson extended his arm.

“My apologies. Tetranese. Tetranese. Tetranese. Forgive me, as we are all still learning.”

“No worries,” Justine said with a big smile. Dawson meandered off to interact with a few other passengers who were lingering in the entry hall.

Gemma stepped closer to Justine to snatch up one of her bite-sized desserts. “Hey!” Justine snapped. “Those are for the guests.”

“Come on—you know they’re my favorites.”

Justine lowered her voice. “What a nice guy. I like him.”

“Really?” Gemma scrunched up her nose. “He kind of creeps me out,” she whispered.

“Why?”

Gemma shrugged. “Ugh. He just won’t stop telling me how beautiful I am.”

“And that’s a bad thing?”

“Coming from him—yeah. It’s just weird. Makes me feel a little uncomfortable, okay?”

“He’s coming back,” Justine whispered.

“So, that was quite a long helicopter flight this morning,” Dawson said, bringing his hands together. “And I’m an old man. I’m guessing you all must have toilets on this flying cruise ship, right?”

“Right this way,” Gemma said, pointing down the hall.

Thankfully, by the time the president had finished using the restroom, the Secretary-General of the United Nations had arrived, as had the World Health Organization Director-General and the Agriculture Secretary. That completed the group who would be participating in the first tour of the day. And at the pace President Dawson was moving, Gemma feared it would also be the longest.

President Dawson pulled Gemma aside after she had shown him around the medical center on the Fortuna. Her heart beat rapidly as the others continued on without them. They stood in a quiet corner of the clinic. Dawson leaned in uncomfortably close. “Listen, I was especially intrigued to see your medical center. That’s the single biggest reason I wanted to come on this tour.” He lowered his voice even more. “The real reason why my wife rarely accompanies me anymore is because she has stage four brain cancer. I tell you this in all confidence, as we have not gone public with it. She doesn’t want to. The tumor is inoperable, and she doesn’t have much time left.”

“Oh, I’m very sorry to hear that,” Gemma said. “Would you—she—be willing to give our nanobot treatment a try?”

“That is precisely what I am trying to ask of you.” He wiped a tear from his eye and sniffled. The old man suddenly seemed like a genuine person and Gemma felt a twinge of guilt for accusing him of being a creep earlier.

“I can speak with our doctors and have it arranged. As it is just an injection, the treatment can easily be flown to her and administered discreetly,” Gemma said. The tears flowed freely from Dawson’s eyes. He mouthed an inaudible thank you and embraced Gemma.

“If it works, you will have my full support in your plan to convert one of these beasts into a cancer-treatment center. Our country is in dire need of it.”

“It is one of the things we are most looking forward to blessing the world with,” Gemma said.

“What about the obesity pandemic? It seems to be something your people do not have a problem with.”

“Oh, we don’t need to solve that one for you. You already know the solution.” She smiled. “But if it makes you feel any better, we have all been living on rations for the past two years. I suspect things will change when that is no longer the case.” She pointed with her thumb over her shoulder. “Let me go get that treatment arranged for you.” She met with Dr. Hugel to gather everything necessary for the treatment while President Dawson caught up with the others. It was agreed that Dr. Hugel would return to the White House with the president to personally administer and oversee the treatment.

At the conclusion of the tour, President Dawson and Dr. Hugel hurried out to the helicopter. Gemma watched it as it lifted off of the ground and flew in a northeast direction. The successful treatment of the First Lady’s cancer could be a real gamechanger for the Tetranese people. And it was. A week later, Gemma received a phone call from the president on her personal cellphone. “Gemma, you’re an angel,” he said. “We just returned from my wife’s appointment and her brain scans came back completely clear. Her oncologist is totally stumped. It’s an absolute miracle.”

“I’m so glad to hear that,” Gemma said. She was outside beneath the Fortuna with a team of environmentalists and agriculturists who were analyzing the soil. Jeff Killian was also there as he had agreed to allow them to drill a well and they were discussing where they could best do that. The Tetranese had brought their own high-tech well-drilling and water treatment equipment with them. Jeff excitedly overlooked the equipment.

“This opens the ranch up for revolutionary opportunities,” he exclaimed in the background of Gemma’s phone conversation. A breeze carried the summer heat into the shade created beneath the belly of the ship.

“I’m releasing a statement later this evening,” President Dawson continued. “I’ll be making a monumental announcement, for which I expect to receive an enormous amount of backlash, but I don’t care. It’s the only thing I can think to do to express my gratitude to you and your people. Did Dr. Hugel make it back there okay, by the way?”

“Yes, he arrived this morning,” Gemma said into the phone. She kicked the dirt with her toe, feeling a bit impatient and anxious to get back to what she was working on. “That was very nice of you to send him in your private helicopter.”

“It’s the least I could do. He saved my wife.” Dawson’s voice cracked. Gemma could hear him sobbing. He apologized for it. Gemma gave him a minute before asking,

“What is the announcement?”

“I am granting you, Dr. Hugel, Captain Clarence, and everyone aboard that ship American citizenship, effective immediately.”

Gemma’s jaw dropped. She wasn’t expecting it. “Wow, Mr. President… Thank you!”

“Yes, I heard your people managed to crash the system when they all tried to submit their paperwork all at once to the USCIS. So, I figured instead of trying to solve that whole mess, I’d just grant you citizenship.”

“And you’re authorized to do that?”

“Er, that’s somewhat of a gray area. But I’m going to fight tooth and nail to make it happen. And there will be plenty complaints about how unfair it is and it’s not right because others have waited for years and years. But I’m sure they will also feel differently once they hear what you have done for my wife.”

“Well, again, thank you. We really appreciate it.”

“My wife and I are indebted to you. I look forward to seeing your pretty face at the meeting in two days.

* * *

With the concrete foundation in place, it was time to find out if the atmospheric bubble was actually going to work. Vance wasn’t sure why, but the control panel was given to him. He tried to protest, but the technicians and mechanics insisted he should have the honors since the concept was his. A small group, including Captain Juno, was gathered in the center of the ring and a much bigger crowd of onlookers was gathered around outside of it. Vance held the control panel in his hand. He looked up at Ned and then at the rest of the group. “Okay, are we ready?” he asked. Captain Juno nodded her head.

Vance’s finger hovered over the glowing button for a second and then he tapped it. There was a whirring sound and then a lilac-colored beam raced around a metal bar that ran around the top of the entire foundation. When the beam met at the generator, it flashed and then expanded, moving up and around until the glowing shell met in the middle. There was another flash when the luminescent film met and then the color disappeared. It was entirely invisible.

“Is it still on?” Vance asked. The generator was still whirring quietly. “It sounds like it is.”

Ned looked up and then glanced over at the generator. “It should be. Turn on the oxygen generator.” Vance did as he was told. At the press of a button, another generator hummed to life. A fan kicked on. It was amazingly quiet considering its size. Vance walked over until he was standing directly in front of it. His space suit prevented him from feeling the actual movement of air, but he could feel the force of it pressing his suit against his skin.

Vance looked to Ned and the other mechanics again. “How long will it take until there’s enough oxygen in here to breathe?” he asked. The mechanics and technicians conversed amongst themselves for a moment.

“We believe it should take about twenty minutes,” one of them answered. Vance, along with the others, activated the oxygen monitor on his suit; it measured the percentage of oxygen on the outside. It seemed like the glowing red number on his forearm remained zero for too long. His heart sank a little with every beat. It appeared their experiment had failed. But then, the number slowly started going up. Vance shared excited glances with the others. The number changed from red to orange, and then orange to yellow.

“No way,” Ned said. “We’ve actually managed to contain at least some of the oxygen.”

“When will it be safe to take the mask off?” Vance asked.

“When the number turns green, obviously,” Hoover snickered. “I can’t believe you’ve actually done it, you crazy fool. I have to admit, my faith in the whole thing was…nonexistent. You literally had us gathering chunks of ancient ice and hauling them all the way back here just to make cement. Do you know how insane that is? And it worked?” He shook his head. “Crazy.”

“Hold up now, Hoover. We don’t actually know if it works just yet,” Vance said. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

Vance kept his eyes fixed on the number on his wrist as he walked over toward the wall where there was a planter box that he had been working on. It was filled with soil he had fortified with some of the waste from the ship. Soon, he hoped to transplant his little seedlings that grew, overcrowded, in a small cup back in his room and start many more—assuming the atmospheric bubble would produce the greenhouse effect he was hoping for. Otherwise, it would be much too cold for any plants to thrive. Vance crouched down and dug his gloved fingers into the soil.

“Mine’s green!” someone exclaimed, directing Vance’s attention back to the number on his wrist. He sprang to his feet.

“So is mine!” he said.

“Mine, too!” Captain Judo added.

“Can I take off my mask now?” Vance said. The others hesitated, but he didn’t. He unfastened it and then broke the seal that protected him from the hostilities of Mars. He took a short breath first. The smell was intense—a mixture of rotten eggs and iron. It took him by surprise and made him gag. Juno gave him a look of concern through her face lens.

“Vance! Are you okay?” she asked. Vance inhaled deeply.

“It’s just very stinky,” he rasped, then he took another breath. Everyone watched him intently.

“Do you feel like you’re going to pass out?” Hoover asked. Vance shook his head and pulled his helmet off, tucking it under his arm. For a second, he debated pulling a trick and pretend like he was gasping for air. He could see himself sprawling out on the ground and rolling in the red dust. It would be hilarious, but also, it wouldn’t be. Their situation on Mars was growing increasingly more dire and he figured nobody was in a joking mood.

Vance took a deep breath, puffing out his chest for all to see. “I can breathe. I can breathe!” he exclaimed. Hoover’s helmet flew off of his head. His smile was quickly replaced with a look of disgust.

“Bah! It stinks. You could’ve warned me,” Hoover said. Ned’s helmet came off next. Soon, everyone within the bubble had removed their helmets.

“This is...astonishing,” Captain Juno said. She gave Vance a pat on the shoulder. “Good work.”

“Oh, this wasn’t me. Let’s give these mechanics, engineers and technicians a round of applause.” He lifted his hands and clapped them. The crowd that was gathered outside of the bubble approached it, clapping their hands in unison.

Vance shivered. He touched his cheek; he assumed his skin was cold, although he could not feel it through his glove. They would need more time to see if the sun would heat the bubble. If not, they would need to turn on the heating element they had constructed.

Juno asked to speak with him and led him away from the rest of the group. “That you and your friends have managed to achieve this and we still haven’t managed to repair the power supply line...” she sighed, shaking her head. She looked into Vance’s eyes. “I’m told the line is fraying more and more every day. They are struggling to keep up with it. The goal has changed gears from repair to preventing further damage.”

Vance clicked his tongue. “That doesn’t sound good.”

“It isn’t. And I have reached another decision.”

“What’s that?”

Juno inhaled deeply. Already, her nose was growing accustomed to the stench of sulfur. “I have decided that you will no longer be making that voyage to Earth.”

Vance opened his mouth to protest, but Juno cut him off.

“I will be. I cannot expect you and your friends to take on such risk.”

Vance shook his head vehemently. “We’ve been practicing for weeks now. We’re ready. The other passengers need you here.”

“No, what these past few days have taught me, is that they need a true leader, like you. Someone who is willing to challenge themselves and take on risks.”

“Juno, I am no leader.”

Juno held out her arm and pulled it in a circle, gesturing at the many people gathered. “I believe all these people would say otherwise.”

“Ned, Hoover and I are ready, Captain. We’ve practiced. We’ve provided the passengers with an emergency refuge. Now that we know it works, we can depart in the morning.”

“My crew and I will depart within the hour,” Juno said. “I’ve put it off for long enough. So, I would like to ask you to take place as captain in my absence. Will you do that for me—for all of these people?”

Vance looked at the people. He could tell the ones standing outside, fully-suited, were anxiously waiting to experience what it was like to be inside of the bubble. It brought him hope to see the excitement and smiles of the group within the dome. He turned back to Juno. “How long do you suspect you’ll be gone?”

“Four days there, four days back,” Juno replied.

“Come on—you should take at least one day to rest and recuperate.”

Juno refused. “I will not rest until I know my people are safe.” She looked at him with sympathy in her eyes. “Do not be sad—you have inspired me.”

An hour later, Vance took a break from monitoring the vacuum-sealed entrance to the atmospheric bubble—having been allowing small groups in at a time to experience it—to watch the departure of the escape pod. It hovered above the ground, creating a billowing cloud of dust, and then made a charging sound as it prepared for blast-off. There was a bright blue flash and then they were gone. Vance watched them until they vanished like a shooting star. Jealousy coursed through his veins. He wanted more than anything to be on that pod. Knowing it would be at least a couple more weeks before he could be reunited with Gemma seemed unbearable. Lucky Captain Juno would be seeing her in just four days, and she didn’t even know her. It seemed unfair.

There was only one thing Vance could do: get back to work.

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