Orion Four

By J.R. Bacon

Orion Four is the fifth book in the Birth of the Gods series.

 

           Major Asheru Mastaba feels lucky to be chosen as one of the astronauts to pilot this giant starship across the Milky Way Galaxy. What makes this even better is that she will be working under the

• Language: English
• Publisher: On the Write Path Publishing
• Release date: Mar 16, 2021
• ISBN: 9781649909916

J.R. Bacon

John Bacon grew up along the shores of Lake Champlain in the Adirondacks of northern New Champlain in the Adirondacks of northern New Champlain in the Adirondacks of northern New York. At age seventeen he dreamed of becoming a writer. He started his college education at the University of New York in Albany and finished at Adrian College in southern Michigan. After graduate school at Wayne State University in Detroit, John taught English in Farmington, Michigan for thirty-three years. He started his writing career when he retired. He has three children and six grandchildren. John resides in Florida.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

The Way Things Are

Conference Center Mayan Space Administration

Atlantis

Hyksos

7M, Day 23, 5106

8:21 p.m.

T

he commander's wife leaned over close to Asheru Mastaba. Would you believe, Major, that they served this mediocre meal with all that money the MSA has in its budget?

Asheru really didn’t know how to answer that, so she just smiled and nodded.

It was true that the dinner had been mediocre at best, but then Asheru Mastaba didn’t like creamed chicken, mashed potatoes and peas. It was obvious the commander's wife agreed with her. However, that was one of two things they had in common. Yes, there were only two – first, the creamed chicken, mashed potatoes and peas. The second wasn’t nearly as obvious. Both of them really had a thing for Commander Noah Saqqara. At least Asheru assumed that his wife had a thing for the commander. She was married to him.

So sitting at the same table with her commander, Noah Saqqara, wasn’t all that bad. Major Mastaba's feelings for her commander were complicated. She liked him a whole lot – maybe too much. After all, he was married. And, actually she also respected him. Some say that's more important than liking a person. In this case, Major Mastaba didn’t think so.

Her commander was one of those men who weren’t drop-dead good looking, but Asheru saw him as good looking in a kind of wholesome way. In fact, he was damned good looking in a kind of wholesome way.

At the same table was Cronos Menelaus, the other pilot, who was also the first mate. She’d kind of forgotten about him. Probably the only reason Cronos was first mate was because he outranked Asheru. He was a colonel. She was as good a pilot, if not better.

But life was that way. Sometimes you outranked other people. Sometimes they outranked you. And sometimes the people who outranked you were, actually, not one iota better than you. That happened.

Tonight, in spite of the creamed chicken, mashed potatoes and peas, the dinner was actually pretty decent. In fact, the company was also pretty decent. Well, most of it was.

For instance, Asheru actually liked Colonel Menelaus's wife, Katep - pretty woman, and smart. She was a high school history teacher. God knows how she did that job day after day. Those kids would drive Asheru crazy.

There was, however, one exception to all this good company. It was none other than the commander's wife, the one and only Menes Saqqara. Some women just didn’t deserve the men they caught. Boy, was that the case with this woman, and, as luck would have it, Menes Saqqara's wheelchair was parked right next to Asheru.

Now, Asheru knew that it wasn’t nice to speak bad things about people in wheelchairs, but this woman was definitely the exception. She was a bitch, wheelchair or not. The fact that she was sitting next to Asheru was a misfortune – for Asheru, of course.

The woman leaned close to her again. Aside from the food, it's so good to see you this evening, my dear.

Why, thank you, ma’am. In spite of that statement, which did sound terribly phony, Asheru had to be polite with the commander's wife.

Have you heard? I’ve contracted a serious illness.

No, ma’am, I hadn’t heard, ma’am. Two ma’ams were better than one.

The pale, petite woman next to her leaned over the arm of her wheelchair and placed her hand on the white tablecloth, as if to somehow steady herself.

Asheru noticed that Menes Saqqara's nearly perfect dark red lipstick had just the slightest irregularity on the right side of her upper lip.

Yes, my dear. I’ve been diagnosed with leukemia, the red lips whispered.

Asheru made a face. She supposed the woman would think the face was for the leukemia when, actually, it was because Menes Saqqara had terribly bad breath. There was this subtle, disgusting smell of something like dirty socks.

Asheru forced a smile. It was challenging, but she managed it. I’m so sorry to hear that, ma’am. With any other person such a remark from Asheru would have been the truth.

The petite, pale woman's head nodded and her neat mass of wavy black hair moved ever so slightly.

It occurred to Asheru that the woman had probably emptied a bottle of hairspray to keep those massive locks under control. Perhaps bullets would ricochet off their surface.

And, good lord, her dress color! The dark blue matched the color of her husband's uniform. How special!

At that moment, Major Asheru Mastaba realized she had descended deep into craven cattiness and she made a point of stopping. After all, the commander's wife was exposing her soul – well, sort of. And, besides, the woman was in a wheelchair. It wasn’t nice to think bad things about a woman in a wheelchair, even this woman.

Of course, that will mean I cannot, under any circumstances, make this journey with my dear husband. Lying had its uses. That is so unfortunate, ma’am. I’m so very sorry. Isn’t there something the Mayan Space Administration can do?

No, my dear, I’m afraid not.

That's too bad, ma’am, truly too bad. Don’t pour it on so thick, there, Mastaba. The woman will smell a rat.

As far as Major Mastaba was concerned, the fact that the commander's wife could not go on this mission was great news. Asheru had never liked the woman anyway, and she had really tried so hard. It had been just too much of a challenge.

The commander's wife was really controlling. Whenever she was around, Asheru was tense. All of her antennae were in high gear. It was like she expected to be run over from behind by a woman in a wheelchair. Clearly, this Menes Saqqara got under Asheru's skin.

Ladies and gentlemen, if I could have your attention, please! said a voice over the public address system.

Asheru made a brief, kindly smile for the commander's wife, then turned away to look at a tall, handsome man standing behind the lectern on the dais at the front of the conference room.

The man in question was the Mayan Space Administration Chief of Operations, General Hector Djoser.

He turned away from the gooseneck microphone sticking out from the top of the lectern. He seemed to be clearing his throat.

The low hubbub in the room descended to silence.

Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. I am MSA Chief of Operations, General Hector Djoser. He leaned away and coughed. When he returned to the microphone, he said, Launch site dust.

There was a low chuckle in the large room.

So, here we are, people, just thirty-six days away from launching the first shuttle flight up to the starship.

There was a burst of applause.

Asheru raised her hands and clapped. For her, it was a mechanical reaction, not exuberance. However, she was interested in what this political hack was going to say. With Djoser, what he said always seemed to be connected to some political agenda - usually his.

Major Mastaba glanced over her left shoulder at her commander, Noah Saqqara.

His wife looked at Asheru and made a practiced smile.

The major smiled back. She hoped it looked sincere and warm. It didn’t feel sincere and warm.

The reason Asheru had looked at her commander was that she just had this momentary wish to see a truly good man. There was absolutely no comparison between this noble person and that political hack up in front of the room.

She had often wondered how old her commander was. He always seemed so mature and so calm. He seemed to be forever in control of his faculties. For Commander Noah Saqqara, it was always business with a calm, deliberate and friendly attitude.

Asheru was convinced that he must be quite a bit older. He was just so mature. There was absolutely no bullshit about him. It was all sincere, straight-forward and fair.

He was the best commander she had ever worked for, in fact, the best superior officer she had ever worked for. That was fortunate because they were faced with a very long trek across the galaxy.

Our experts are in the process, people, of going over, one last time, the detailed records of our ancestors’ space journey here to our home planet, said General Djoser's voice over the PA system. As you well know, we have used these records as a template for our own plans to return to Mars.

As far as Asheru was concerned, life had never made a whole lot of sense. Here she was listening to this man who had a reputation for being prone to entertaining women. Or maybe it would be more accurate to say he was often with strangers who also happened to be women and who also happened to be prone at the time. In other words, he was a pickle dipper.

So here was this notorious Mayan Space Administration pickle dipper making pronouncements about this world-changing journey across the Milky Way Galaxy after a creamed chicken, mashed potato and peas dinner.

Life sure was strange.

We estimate that this journey across the galaxy will take approximately forty-nine, point two years. It's a distance - as near as we can calculate - of some forty-six, point seven light years.

General Djoser's handsome face scanned the room. We are making history, my friends. We are making history.

Applause started somewhere in the far left side of the room.

Asheru raised her hands and joined in. She glanced over to her right at Cronos the other pilot, the first mate.

Cronos made a brief, amused smile and looked away. His wife made a finger wave.

Asheru was convinced that the woman was not only attractive but smart, in fact, smart enough to know what this pickle dipper was like. There was a sort of tolerant smile on her pretty face.

Cronos was lucky to have such a woman, but then Cronos was a nice guy. That was a solid match – a smart, relatively good looking man and this cool woman.

To Asheru's left was a whole different story. How Menes Saqqara had ever landed that wonderful man, Asheru could not fathom. Good sex? She doubted it. The woman was sick all the time. How do you have good sex when you’re sick? For just a split second, Asheru wondered if sex was even possible in a wheelchair, but then they probably did it in bed like everyone else.

She didn’t envy Menes Saqqara. Having cancer had to be horrible and, incidentally, it was often fatal. But the woman had always been sick. If it wasn’t one thing, it was another. In fact, Menes Saqqara had been confined to a wheelchair for as long as Asheru had known her. Maybe that was the way she held her man.

Asheru could see that. Commander Noah Saqqara was an honorable man of good intentions. He would be attentive to an ailing, wheelchair-confined wife. He would definitely be loyal.

Of course, sitting right here in this seat was the only single person at the table, Major Asheru Mastaba. So, Major Mastaba, what is the reason you’re still single? Boobs too small? A hairy female body? A small, dull brain?

None of the above.

For Asheru, it had always been difficult. It just seemed that every man she had ever met, and the few that she had dated, were shallow and immature.

What kind of man would she marry?

Asheru glanced around the room. She could hear the drone of General Djoser's voice in the back of her consciousness.

To her right, one table away was that small guy who worked in security aboard the starship, Lieutenant Abydos Buhen. He had this kind of nervous personality, and he was married to that woman, Maidum. No chance there. Besides, he was nervous.

Her gaze moved to the left. Now, there was an interesting man, Seth Imhotep. He was Chief of Repairs, or the CR, as it was called. The woman next to him was his date and his girlfriend. Rumor has it that he brought her aboard as an elementary school teacher. What was her name? Tia something. Asheru wasn’t sure. Hey, he was just kind of good looking but she was really, really cute. Oh well, who can tell about such things?

With them was that Napata guy. He was a colonel and he was in charge of the Air Force Police on the starship, who were in charge of security. He was that weird, little guy's boss, that Lieutenant Buhen, the one who was nervous all the time.

Asheru's gaze finally rested on the profile of her commander, Noah Saqqara. Now - there was a damned good man.

Over these last three years, while she had worked with Commander Saqqara, Asheru had anticipated that at some point she would get a peek at some hidden flaw. She had never caught sight of a single one.

Her commander's head turned and he smiled.

Asheru Mastaba could feel her face break into a smile. Then she caught the commander's wife staring at her.

Asheru could now feel her own smile vanish. She turned her head away and focused on General Djoser, standing behind the lectern. Life sure as hell was strange.

CHAPTER TWO

No Ticket

23114 Rosedale Lane

Atlantis

Hyksos

7M, Day 23, 5106

11:06 p.m.

M

enes Saqqara had been able to manage by herself in the walk-in closet. Earlier this year, Noah had called somebody he knew out at the base.

That man had installed a stainless steel rail. It made moving around in the closet and changing clothes so much easier.

This evening she had put on a pair of long, soft pajama pants and a loose long-sleeved top. These were a matching set made of maroon velour - very warm and comfortable.

They were not particularly sexy, not that she wanted them to be. However, she still did have a figure. Most women her age began to have problems with weight. Menes did not, and she never would. She would make sure of that.

If she wanted to attract Noah in that special way, she could. She had been just so tired lately and the wheelchair made it more difficult to move around. It was probably the leukemia that made her tired. She absolutely hated that terribly bitter medication she was taking.

Tonight's gathering at the conference center had been enjoyable enough. She loved to dress up. She had some nice things. She always bought her clothing with her own money, well actually money her father had left.

Noah made a good income, for a military person, but he certainly didn’t make enough for her tastes. Menes had never held it against him. She just used her own money. She never made a fuss over it. She didn’t want to hurt her Noah's feelings.

He had to know this would happen. Noah had married up, as they called it in the military. It was not an uncommon practice. Military men didn’t make all that much.

She could hear the tinkle of glass against glass. Noah was stirring their drinks. She had been told by her doctor to stay away from alcohol, but Menes considered that uncivilized.

Of course, she would have a cocktail in the evening before bed. She and Noah had been doing that for years now. It was part of their daily ritual, a part she really enjoyed.

Menes grabbed onto the edge of the dresser and pulled herself up out of the wheelchair. She checked her hair in the mirror. It was still in one piece and really appeared quite neat. She shuffled around sideways and checked her figure in the maroon velour pants.

Yes, her butt was still petite. She really looked quite trim. In fact, she might have lost a little weight, most of it in her breasts. That wasn’t so pleasant. All men, including her Noah, noticed breasts.

Doctor Gurab, the oncologist, had told her she might lose some weight, especially as the leukemia progressed.

He had also told Menes that the small sensitive lump in her left armpit was probably a tumor. She had decided not to have a biopsy just yet. But Doctor Gurab had convinced her that an MRI was a good idea. She had scheduled it for tomorrow when Noah was at the base.

Menes was not going to tell her husband about the tumor. Noah had a lot on his mind these days. She didn’t want to burden him with anything else. That could wait. Besides, she liked to present things in her own way. She would wait for the right moment to tell him. She would know when that was.

Menes pressed the lever on the right wheelchair arm.

The chair whirred across the deep carpet of the bedroom floor to the doorway.

What was the name of that rather crude young woman at their table tonight? Oh, yes, Mastaba… Major Mastaba. That young female pilot had been looking at her Noah.

Well, she could just go ahead and look all she wanted. Noah belonged to her, and Menes had never doubted Noah's fidelity, certainly not when it came to a crude young woman like that.

She had seen the way that little shit had stared at her Noah. Probably he had never noticed anyway. He had no time for stupid people like that.

When she rolled her wheelchair out into the bright light of the kitchen, Noah turned from the small bar recessed at the end of the family room. Your martini's ready, honey.

Menes made a smile. As usual, her husband was attentive to her every need and want.

She rolled the wheelchair across the carpeted floor and stopped close to him. Come down here, handsome.

Noah leaned over.

She kissed his cheek.

Thank you, my dear.

Noah's hand moved down toward her with a long-stemmed conical glass. Here you go – martini very dry, just the way you like them.

Menes saw the short, heavy glass with the dark amber liquid and ice cubes sitting above her on the small bar. You’re not having a martini?

No, I’m drinking whisky. It's been a long hard day. I want to sleep soundly tonight.

Menes held up her glass. To us and our relationship.

Noah's face became serious. Yes, to us. He reached down with his whisky glass and touched the conical martini glass. Then he took a substantial sip of the whisky and swallowed.

What's on your mind, Noah?

He didn’t answer.

Menes sipped from her martini and swallowed. I keep forgetting that I’ll be staying here. Actually that was not the whole story, but she didn’t want to make him feel bad.

His brown eyes focused on hers. Isn’t there any way you can come?

Menes shook her head. No. Doctor Gurab was very definite. He said the clinic onboard the starship would not have nearly the facilities to take care of me.

Noah nodded. I’m sure that's true, but…

It wouldn’t make any difference anyway, Noah. Isn’t that what you were going to say? The flight from down here up into space would be too much for me.

Noah's face became sad and his wide shoulders seemed to slouch. I just can’t imagine you here while I’m way up there.

I’ll be all right.

I shouldn’t go on this flight, Menes.

She could see the beginnings of tears in her husband's eyes. These were the things that made her so fond of Noah. He was such a sensitive and kind man.

He wasn’t the smartest man she had ever known. Her father was. But Noah made up for it because of his goodness.

Her husband placed his whisky glass on the small bar. I’ll call General Djoser tomorrow and tell him I can’t go.

Nonsense. Don’t you do any such thing. I’ll figure something out, my dear. I have an appointment with Doctor Gurab this week. I’ll just tell him that I have to go with you.

I’m not sure General Djoser would allow you on board the starship even if you received your doctor's permission.

Don’t you have an influence at the Space Center?

I stay out of the politics. You know that.

Politics is what makes the world go round, Noah.

We’ve been in some very intensive physical training. Could you handle that?

You know I couldn’t. Besides, I don’t see the point.

It's conditioning for the flight up to the starship. And, once we’re aboard, we’ll have to do resistance training to keep our bodies in shape.

It occurred to Menes that this starship life was something she would not particularly like. That young female officer would like it. What was her name again? Oh, yes – Major Asheru Mastaba.

Menes imagined the young woman working out in a pair of shorts and halter top in front of her husband. No, her Noah would never succumb to that crude bitch. The girl was rough around the edges. Besides, she wasn’t that good looking, and she did seem quite muscular. What man liked a muscular woman?

Even if Menes couldn’t go on the starship, she had this idea that would make her Noah remember her forever.

But maybe she was just imagining she could do this thing. It would certainly take a lot of courage to pull it off.

She would have to give it more thought.

CHAPTER THREE

Last Moments

Riverview School

13825 Riverview Avenue

Cairo

Hyksos

7M, Day 27, 5106

3:07 p.m.

I

n three days they would be in lockdown on the MSA base. It was all part of the preparations for the launch. All people who were going on this mission had to be there three days from now by seven in the evening or they could not go on the mission.

Asheru knew the reasons for this regimen, but it made everything seem so abnormal. It was like being quarantined. Actually, part of the reason to be locked down on the base was the MSA didn’t want you to catch any nasty virus and bring it aboard the starship. After all, a sick crew would be a very bad idea.

She felt kind of odd, sitting here in the school parking lot in a tiny rental car in her MSA uniform. The school guard at the door at the end of the parking lot near the back door of the building had scrutinized her car for several minutes, then he apparently had gotten bored with the whole idea and stopped looking.

Her mother would be the only person she was going to miss. Asheru had always felt stronger than her mother until today. Now she felt quite vulnerable. It was because she hated these emotional moments. She wasn’t good at these kinds of things.

She could remember the emotional moment when her father left. Her mother had thrown him out. The woman had mustered enough courage to throw that cheating, immature and charming narcissistic man out of their house.

Even though she was only nine, Asheru had realized that her father was what her friends at school would have called a loser. He was handsome and had a great, engaging smile. The girls at school would have liked that. He was tall, but not too tall. He had this perfectly dark skin – not too dark, just dark enough. And he had possessed a pair of blue eyes that could, at the right strategic moment, twinkle with charm.

She had known at the time that he was narcissistic. However, she hadn’t learned that word yet. At age nine, she would have said that he was kind of stuck on himself. In other words, he knew he was good looking and charming and he liked himself a whole lot. That was her father, Seth Mastaba.

But that was all ancient history. Well, actually it wasn’t. Those tough years were what had driven Asheru to join the Mayan Air Force with the express goal of becoming a pilot, and she had done that.

Then, just because she had to prove that she could become a test pilot, she became a test pilot. After that, she was approached about joining the Mayan Space Administration because of a secret mission they were planning. Of course, she could never resist that challenge.

What was ironic about all this was that her mother had named her after a test pilot and astronaut who had lived over sixty years ago, Sais Asheru. Her mother had told Asheru that she had always wanted to learn how to fly and that she had really admired this Sais Asheru when she had read about her in a history course in college. Later, she had named her only child after that famous woman.

Asheru couldn’t imagine her mother as a pilot. The woman was smart enough for sure, but when it came to making split second decisions, Inti Mastaba was definitely inept.

The bond Asheru felt with her mother was strong. She knew their relationship was different than most. Asheru had become her mother's protector even back when she was nine.

When the woman had thrown out her husband, the household had come apart. Asheru had taken up the slack, making meals for herself and even eventually doing the laundry.

Her mother had continued teaching and apparently she had continued to get that right. However, at home the woman became a wreck and Asheru realized, even at age nine, that if things were going to get done, she would have to do them.

When Asheru saw the first teacher step out of the building, she realized that she would have to go inside. Her mother was always late leaving, usually for a good reason.

Asheru knew she should do this, rather than put it off. None of it was going to be easy. After all, she would be saying good-bye to her mother for the very last time.

She had talked to her mom on the phone about the mission at least twice, but the conversations had been general and purposely vague. The MSA had told them that the information was classified, that the Mayan public would be informed of the details of the mission after the starship had left.

Right now, unless she wanted to be sitting here for a long time, Major Asheru Mastaba knew she had to act. She, therefore, pulled the silver lever to her left and pushed open the driver's door.

She rose out of the car and slammed the door.

Two young male teachers across the lot turned to the sound.

Asheru pressed the remote.

The little car beeped and the headlights blinked.

She was wearing her uniform today. She figured her mother would get a kick out of seeing her daughter in the neat, dark blue uniform.

Asheru was convinced that her mother, the elementary teacher, had lived that fantasy about being a pilot through her only child. It was all right to do that. Lots of parents did. Some of them even pushed their kids into things they didn’t have the talent or courage to do themselves. Her mother had never done that.

At the door, the guard stepped sideways to block her from entering. Do you have a pass, soldier?

Astronaut.

Do you have a pass?

No. I’m Asheru Mastaba. I’ve come to see my mother, Inti Mastaba. She teaches fourth grade in this building.

Why don’t you have a pass?

I flew in from Atlantis this afternoon. I simply want to pick up my mother and take her out for dinner. I’m going to be in lockdown on the MSA base in three days and I’ll never see her again.

Are you part of the crew of the starship?

Yes, a pilot.

The stocky man's brown eyes blinked. Let me radio into the building, Commander.

Major.

Sorry… Major. The stocky man yanked a rectangular radio off his belt and held it up to the side of his face. If Mrs. Inti Mastaba is within hearing distance of this call, please pick up your wall set, press the TALK button and answer. A woman, claiming to be your daughter is outside at the teacher's parking lot entrance.

The radio made a squawk and Asheru heard a delicate female voice. The words were indecipherable.

Describe your daughter, please, Mrs. Mastaba.

Asheru heard a string of several garbled words. She recognized brown hair.

She claims to be a pilot for the MSA. Is that correct, ma’am?

Yes. That sound was garbled, but distinctive.

Thank you, ma’am. The guard flicked off the rectangular box and slipped the clip over the top of his belt. He held out his hand. Your identification, please, Major.

Asheru reached into the inside pocket of her uniform jacket and pulled out a long thin wallet. She flipped it open and handed it to the guard.

The stocky man studied the picture I.D. inside. He looked up. You really fly those big ships?

There are three of us and some navigators.

He folded the wallet closed. They say all of that stuff's classified information. He held the wallet out toward Asheru.

She clasped onto the soft leather. Yes, but once we’re on our way, a lot of it will be made public. Asheru slipped the wallet into the inner breast pocket of her jacket.

Saying good-bye to your mother?

Something like that.

The guard smiled. She's a nice lady. Always says hello - always polite.

That's my mom.

The guard turned and pulled open the door. Enjoy your stay, Major.

Asheru made a brief smile. Thank you. I will. She passed by the guard and stepped through the doorway into the bright hallway with tubular florescent lights. They were strung along both upper edges of the white stucco ceiling where it met the blue stucco walls.

A flood of memories came back to her. It was funny, but elementary schools still smelled the same – sweaty bodies, cafeteria food and floor wax.

Asheru found that she was smiling as she strode down the hallway toward the central lobby. From the numbers above the doors in this hallway, she could tell she was in the wrong wing. Her mother's classroom number was twenty-seven. This hallway was numbered in the two hundreds.

From what her mother had said, Asheru knew the building was built like the spokes of a giant wheel with the administration offices, cafeteria and library in the hub of the wheel.

When she reached the central lobby, she faced a cluster of glassed-in offices. Around this was a circular hallway and from that hallway the spokes pointed outward.

Asheru moved around the circle until she saw a sign above one of the spokes with the black numbers 20-30. She turned down that hallway. The even numbers were on her left, the odd on her right.

At