Extraterrestrial Refugees

There was still a lump in Justine’s throat and her heart was still frantically pounding as she sat at her seat at the council table. Really, all she wanted was to go to her husband to feel the security of his strong embrace. However, Barkley demanded she go to the conference room immediately to explain herself. Clarence addressed the councilmembers, glancing woefully at Gemma’s empty chair. “Good afternoon, everyone. This emergency meeting has been called because there have been some new developments.” He briefly explained that Justine had spoken with the owner of the land. “Justine, I believe the owner had an…intriguing proposition?”

Justine straightened her shoulders. “Yes, he did. He doesn’t mind us being on his property as long as he can make some money from it.”

“That seems a bit selfish,” another woman commented.

“These people will do anything for money,” Barkley chortled.

“What is he proposing, Justine?” Clarence asked.

“He wants to sell tickets for people to get tours of the Fortuna.”

“Ha! That’s never going to work simply based on what just happened,” Barkley said.

Justine’s mind flashed back to thirty minutes earlier when she went to let Jeff back out of the ship. She could see on the monitors that a group of soldiers stood outside waiting for him, so she had Jeff wait in the space between the inner door and the outer door. She stood behind the inner door and opened the outer. As soon as she had, the soldiers plowed their way in. Over a dozen of them crammed into the small space, shouting and hollering at Justine. The anger on their faces and in their voices was terrifying. She tried reminding herself they were simply scared.

The soldiers began prying at the door, trying to get to Justine, threatening to arrest her. She wasn’t sure where Jeff had gone; probably wedged out when the others rushed in. She yelled to the others nearby to retreat from the entry hall, to lock themselves in their dorms or the dining hall—anywhere they could get to as quickly as they could. Justine had confident in the outer door with its force shield, but she feared the inner door was somewhat of a weak spot.

Justine panicked. She froze. She watched as they banged against the door and rammed it with their shoulders. One barked orders to another to fetch a crowbar and other tools. That was when Barkley showed up. “What are you doing?” he had hollered. Justine tried to respond but no words came out. Barkley aggressively typed a code into a nearby keypad. The outer door began to close. Alarm replaced the anger on the soldiers’ faces. “Let’s see how they feel about not being able to breathe,” said Barkley. He furrowed his thick brow and the corner of his mouth went up ever so slightly.

“The door is closing! The door is closing!” a soldier shouted. He leapt back out of the ship. The others followed as the opening became narrower and narrower. Only three stubborn soldiers remained in the space.

“We gotta get out of here!” one said, but it was too late. The gate locked into place. Barkley tapped on a few more buttons. Justine could hear a few fans kick on in the vents.

“One of these settings fills the box with oxygen for when people come back in from being in an oxygen-less space,” Barkley explained. A wicked smile appeared on his face. “The other setting does the opposite.”

Justine’s eyes widened. “You’re vacuuming out all the oxygen?” She gasped. Barkley looked stalwartly through the window.

“Yep.”

“But, that will kill them!”

“Don’t worry. I won’t let it get to that point. We just need to frighten them a bit so they don’t try something like this again.”

“But—”

“Who’s the defense specialist aboard this ship, hmm?” Barkley snapped, glaring at Justine. She froze again. “Exactly. So just shut up and let me do my job.”

Justine watched in horror as the soldiers’ heaved. Their breathing became rapid. They grasped at their throats as if they were choking. “That’s enough, Barkley. Let them out,” Justine demanded. Barkley stood still, continuing to watch them with that cruel grin. One of the soldiers had fallen to his knees now. Justine could see he was trying to speak. “Barkley! Let them out!”

The soldier went limp, falling to his face. Justine’s heart stopped. She shoved Barkley away from the control panel, pounded in a code as quickly as she could, and watched as the outer door cracked open. There was a group of soldiers waiting directly outside of it again. One was holding a crowbar, but he let it fall to the ramp with a loud clang when he saw his fallen and struggling comrades. “Get them out of there! Move, move, move!” He himself jumped in, grabbed the wrists of the soldier who had passed out, and dragged him out onto the ramp. Justine began closing the door as they helped the third man, coughing and gasping for breath, to his feet. The door sealed into place just as they were out.

Justine’s ears were ringing. Her heart was beating so hard she was certain one would be able to see it from the outside. The soldiers didn’t leave immediately. They aimed their weapons at the door and banged against it. Two helicopters hovered nearby again as well, weapons pointed at the ship.

Justine wanted to chastise Barkley, but she was still in too much shock to speak. Barkley, on the other hand, opened his mouth and let it run. After making it thoroughly clear that he thought Justine was stupid for letting someone in—and then beating the dead horse—he summoned the council for an emergency meeting.

Clarence dragged his hands over his face upon hearing the whole story of what had transpired. He shook his head. “This is bad. Really bad. Now we look aggressive.”

“How can we remedy it?” Justine asked.

“Well, fortunately we’re even now,” Clarence gestured at his bandaged foot. “But we need to prove to them that we’re not violent.” He shot a glare over to Barkley. “And I think inviting them aboard for tours would actually be a great way to do that.”

“If any of them dare come aboard our vessel anymore,” Justine mumbled, shaking her head. Barkley narrowed his eyes at her.

“You cannot blame me for this disaster,” he said. He pointed his finger at her. “This is your fault for letting him in in the first place. What made you think that would be okay?”

Justine’s gazed wandered to Clarence. “Gemma did it.” Her voice was quiet.

“Gemma may as well be our queen!” Barkley roared. “She’s our spokesperson, our mascot—the face of our people. She has degrees in psychology, science, public speaking, social studies, and who knows what else. I think it’s safe to say she’s a little more qualified than you are to make such decisions.”

Justine folded her arms tightly. The corners of her mouth twitched downward. “Interesting to hear coming from you—you who’ve had very few positive things to say about her, questioned her position, and doubted her abilities from the very beginning.”

“Remind me what your assignment is on this mission and how it’s relevant to deciding who comes aboard this ship, would you?”

Clarence held up his hand. “That’s enough, Barkley.”

“Remind me!” Barkley snapped. His face flashed to red. Justine was crumbling inside, but she managed to stare at him in defiance.

“You don’t have to answer that, Justine. We all know what your position is and how critical it is to the survival of this vessel,” Clarence said. What he said was true; the small group of a dozen people had been working closely together for over five years. They practically knew everything about each other. Like how Barkley was a prideful know-it-all.

“Nutritionist and kitchen inventory,” Justine answered. “And no, I may not have had the authority to let him in, but I was worried about my friend Gemma. I hoped he would have some information about her for me, mostly because she’s a friend, but also because when I go into the kitchens on this vessel it’s not to stuff my greedy face with more than my allotted rations.”

Barkley’s eyes shifted from side-to-side. He chuckled guiltily. “I think we’re all guilty of doing that every now and then.”

“Not the thousands of people who don’t have access to the kitchen and who’ve put their lives in our hands,” Justine said. “That’s not the point though. Our inventory is shrinking every day. Even with the greenhouses producing as best as they can, we’re all going to have to tighten our belts if we can’t get off this ship in the near future.”

“Are we really out of food?” Bev, a navigation specialist, asked. Justine shook her head.

“We’ll never run completely out of food, however, rations will need to be tightened—reduced to only the nutrient intake necessary for survival. That would entail eating only two meals a day instead of three, and so on. It would be doable, but unpleasant.”

“There’s something even more unpleasant than these awful nutrition bars we’ve been having to eat these past few months?” Barkley grumbled.

“Yes. There is. That’s why I tried asking the man—Jeff—about Gemma. I do hope she’s making some progress.”

“Aside from that,” Unwin, a communications technician and specialist piped in, “we’ve had daily contact with most of the other vessels. They will be in Earth’s orbit in two days’ time. What will they all do if the Earthlings aren’t willing to receive them—us?”

“I have every confidence in Gemma,” Clarence said. “We will hear from her again soon. In the meantime, it is imperative that we do our part to show the Earthlings that they want us here.” He looked at Justine. “Let’s contact Jeff and let him know we’d like to begin giving tours as soon as possible.”

* * *

It took a lot of persuasion and reciting of her legal rights for Gemma to convince the authorities that she was entitled to at least one phone call. She wished with all her heart it could be to her fiancé Vance. She wondered if the others had heard anything from them.

Her fingers quivered as she dialed Legend’s number. She listened impatiently to the ringtone. “Hello?” Legend finally answered in a groggy voice. “This had better be important. It’s three in the morning.”

“Legend,” said Gemma. She was hoping he would be familiar enough with her voice to recognize who it was.

“Gemma?” Legend said after a short pause.

“You haven’t come. You haven’t called. Why not?”

“You’re in prison?”

“Yes. I’ve been in here for two days now. I need to get out. And I was hoping you’d help me.”

“How do you think I can do that?”

“Post bail, for starters.”

“I doubt you have a bail.”

“Well then just talk to them. I’m sure there’s something you could do that would help our situation. We sent you here for a reason.”

Legend chortled sarcastically. “Oh, no. You had absolutely nothing to do with me being sent here. Were you even born when I left?”

“You left Tetra twenty-five years ago. I was three. Mission Sixty-Seven. I’m very familiar with it.”

“Yes. A brilliant plan. Send a handful of Tetra’s brightest youths alone to a hostile planet to fend for themselves.”

“That’s not how it was at all.”

“No, Gemma. That’s exactly how it was.” Legend’s breathing became aggressive. “You have no idea how I suffered. I was nineteen. A kid! Finding my way on my own planet would’ve been difficult enough. But I was here. No friends, no family. For years. Abandoned by my own. And now you’re here to disrupt my life again—a life I’ve worked so hard to build up for myself. So, you’ll pardon me, I’m sure, for not rushing to aid the very people who abandoned me.”

Gemma stared at the corner of the small cubicle she was in.

“Wow, is it really that easy to stump the beloved, perfect Gemma?”

Gemma, elbows planted on the table in front of her, ran a fingertip lightly over her dry lips. “Forgive me. I didn’t know that’s how you felt. I thought you knew what you were volunteering for, just as I did.”

“Volunteered. Strange word, that one. I was always told I ‘volunteered’ to come here, but I’ve never quite believed it. Coaxed is a better word for it.”

“You still had a choice.”

“Did I really though? I was young, naïve, gullible. Thought I was sent here for the greater good.”

“And so you were! We need you. Six-billion Tetranese are counting on you.”

Legend yawned. “Look, I know you and your team of academics like to think you’re experts in all subjects related to Earth, but I’m the one who’s actually been here on the ground, living amongst these people. I understand how things work and what makes these people tick. And they will never in a million years welcome six-billion souls onto Earth with open arms.”

Gemma chewed on her lower lip. She wanted to argue with him but worried she was leaning toward agreeing with him.

“It’s a lost cause, Gemma. That’s why there’s no sense in throwing my life and reputation away for it.”

“You swore an oath. You signed a contract.”

“Hmm, yes… A contract written up on a planet that no longer exists. That doesn’t hold much weight, if you ask me.”

“I’m not asking you,” Gemma said sternly. “You have become a man of great influence here. You stand in a position where you could help us immensely. And I’m going to get that help from you, whether you want to give it or not. We’ll tell the world who you really are and where you came from.”

“Then I’ll sue you for slander, and seeing as you’ll have no way to pay for it, you’ll end up locked up for a good long while.”

Gemma shook her head. “You wouldn’t do that.”

“Wouldn’t I? I think we both know I would.”

The correctional officer knocked on the cubicle wall. “Time’s up,” he said.

Legend chuckled. “Looks like you just wasted your one phone call. Have fun in prison.” His end of the line went silent. Gemma’s heart sank to the floor as she hung up the phone. She felt numb as she was escorted back to her lonely cell.

She sat on the edge of her bed and looked up at the TV, her only window to the outside world. The reporter was standing in the crowd. “…undeterred by the incident that too place yesterday when several soldiers were trapped in the ship and nearly suffocated. The authorities view it as a personal and intentional attack and are discouraging the purchase of tickets for these tours. But, like I said, thousands of tickets have already been purchased and the people are standing in queue for hours, waiting to get their tours, which may or may not actually happen.”

The reporter took a few steps over. “We have the landowner, Jeff Killian, here. Now, Mr. Killian, I understand you went into the ship yourself yesterday?”

Jeff nodded his head. The rim of his hat shaded his hairy face. “Yes, I did. Just walked up to the door and knocked.”

“And they let you in?”

“Yes, sir, they did. A very nice woman named Justine.”

Gemma’s ears perked at the mention of her friend’s name.

“They weren’t hostile to you in any way?” the reporter asked.

“Oh, not at all. She was very friendly and apologetic for trespassing on my land. But I told her, you all aren’t trespassing. You’re welcome to be here if you’re willing to give tours of your ship.”

“And, they said yes?”

“Yep, they did,” Jeff said with a nod.

“Now, Mr. Killian, you’re not concerned for visitors’ safety?”

Jeff shook his head assertively. “Not at all. These people are friendly. Those soldiers plowed in there uninvited and got crowbars to try and bust in there. That’s not cool. Those soldiers who were almost suffocated brought that upon themselves.”

“So, I see a lot of people waiting in line here to go on the ship. But you’ve got a bit of a problem.” The reporter stepped aside, giving the camera a view of the line of soldiers who barred the civilians from getting any closer to the ship. “As you can see, the military is maintaining the perimeter and stopping anyone who tries to go up to the ship. Do you think they’re going to cooperate with the tours?”

Jeff folded his arms. “I’ve got lawyers working on it. We’ve got some prestigious people buying these tickets. I won’t say who, but I’ll just say they’re big names.”

“That’s really fascinating. I see you’ve even brought in some porta-potties.”

“Yes. I’ve got some tractors working on improving the road to get out here and have established camping places. So, come on out and join the fun!”

“How does that work when the military is discouraging more people from coming out?”

Jeff scoffed. “They can say what they want, but it’s my property,” he pointed a thumb at his chest, “and I’m inviting everyone to come out.”

“I’d imagine they’re trying to shut you down?”

“Oh, of course they are.”

Gemma kept her eyes on the television but tuned out the conversation. She wished she knew what had happened. Soldiers nearly suffocating? No doubt Barkley had something to do with it. She shook her head in frustration. They had been working so hard to prove they were peaceful. Their reputation and chances of a warm reception were hanging by a thread. She knew even the slightest risk of violence would jeopardize their entire mission.

A pair of guards walked up to her isolated cell and opened the door. “Come on. We’re taking you to the interrogation room,” one of them said. Gemma stood up, trying to hide the frustration she felt. She left the cell, hoping by some miracle she would not be seeing it again.