Incident At New Alaska
Mikayla was the first to break under the pressure. The announcement blared over the speakers and she immediately panicked. Out, she had to get out. But there was no way out. No charm, no deceit, no quick feet could save her this time. She’d finally been cornered like the pathetic little rat she was. Trapped and out of options, Mikayla did the only thing she’d ever really been good at. She quit. She slid down the cold steel wall, huddled into a fetal position, and broke into tears. Her life was supposed to be different here on New Alaska. That’s what all the brochures promised. Come to the last frontier and start over. Leave the mindless mob far behind and be the master of your own destiny. Find a spouse. Make a fortune. Freedom and opportunity for all waits on the Moon’s first colony, New Alaska. It hadn’t been much of a new start. She should have known better. Hadn’t she heard the old adage a dozen times in a dozen different therapy sessions? Wherever you go, there you are. You can’t outrun an addiction. She had hoped that sheer distance would be enough to save her. She’d counted on it. But the smugglers were right at home on the space shuttles. And designer drugs were among the first products produced on the new colony. The more things changed, the more they stayed the same. Really, it wasn’t fair. She’d tried this time, harder than she’d ever tried before. Her job as a cook hadn’t brought her either fortune or fulfillment, but it had been honest work. And her gig as a volunteer at the children’s center had kept her straight for four whole months. She’d been sure that she’d finally beaten her demons. She’d struggled through the cravings, the sleepless nights and the numbing depression. She’d begun to see the light at the end of the tunnel. Then she made the same mistake she always made. Unfortunately, the men on New Alaska weren’t any different than the ones she’d left back on Earth. Or maybe it was her taste in men that hadn’t changed. Drill this into your brain --wherever you go, there you are. At first glance, Dante had seemed so different than the usual loser that she met back home. He had a good job in the administration building. He’d been one of the first settlers so he’d snagged some of the best housing. He knew the best people on the colony and spent money like he printed it in his basement. Which he did, more or less. Another con artist, another addict. Another him that she’d let screw up her life. She had to travel thousands of miles to a dirty, stinking mining colony on a dead moon to meet the biggest user of her life. Figures. Wasn’t it what her mother had predicted? She’d screw up in New Alaska just like she’d screwed up everywhere else. Wherever you go… Mikayla huddled on the floor, torn between needing a fix and wanting to pray. She settled for wailing uncontrollably. New Alaska, new hope. Old habits, old lies. Maybe Fate was doing her a favor finally ending the whole fiasco. “Don’t worry. It’s just a drill.” “What?” Mikayla glanced up at the man who stood over her. “A drill? Do you really think so?” He nodded confidently. “I’ve been covering the station since it was just a stack of blueprints. The security geeks are prepared for anything short of a nuclear bomb.” “You’re a reporter?” Mikayla struggled to concentrate. “I think I’ve seen you interviewed on Your New Alaska.” “Right. I’m Wolfe London and I promise you’re there’s nothing to worry about.” Wolfe held out his hand. “Come on. It can’t be too comfortable down there.” Mikayla dragged herself to her feet, humiliated but relieved. Figures her makeup would be running down her face and her hair would be a mess when she met one of the station’s few celebrities. She grabbed a napkin from her lunch cart and quickly wiped her eyes, though part of her mind was only too aware of the continued blare of the siren. “You’re sure it’s just a drill? Should we be doing something? ” “Nothing we can do. The radiation doors slammed shut as soon as the siren went off. We’re stuck here until the drill is over.” Wolfe glanced around the room full of panicked civilians, focused on the technicians hunched over their control boards. His calm expression faltered for a moment, though his voice retained its professional tone. “If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll just go see what the hired help is up to.” Mikayla watched him go. As the reporter argued with the security guard that blocked his way, she returned to her huddle on the floor. If this truly was a drill, she might as well act like she would during a real emergency. * * * * A radiation leak in the power center was impossible. Every precaution had been taken, backup systems had been installed, safety protocols had been religiously adhered to. So there was no way that Finn could be sealed in a room that was slowly turning into a death trap. But he was. He forced himself to remain calm as he evaluated the situation. The blast doors had slammed shut at the same instant that the radiation siren shrieked. That was as it should be, but there had been no early warning lights. That was wrong. And impossible. There were only a few people in New Alaska who were aware of the intricate web of defense that had been designed to safeguard the pioneering colony. Finn, as chief of security, was one of that number. He’d been there when the plans for the nuclear power center had been drawn up and had joined in the discussion about the danger of terrorism. By the time their highly paranoid little group had finished their plans, there should have been no way that any outsider could have been able to sabotage the nuclear generator. So, the only possible conclusion was that an insider was responsible for their imminent death. Not much of a consolation, but at least it gave Finn something to focus on while those around him panicked. He studied his fellow victims. Being lunchtime, the control center was blessedly deserted. The woman who visited daily with the food cart had collapsed onto the floor in tears. A half dozen other colonists – including one woman who Finn was sure he’d seen on a reality show -- had chosen the wrong time to play tourist and check out the colony’s power supply. Finn recalled the ongoing argument about granting access to the power center to visitors. He’d been on the safety side of the debate. Freedom of access had won, but Finn suspected that policy was about to change. A reporter from the New Alaska Journal and Immigrant Blog had been unlucky enough to choose that day to interview Dante Adams, one of the colony’s bigwigs. Adams had been giving the poor guy a tour of the state-of-the-art power center, but left to handle a problem right before the shit hit the fan. Lucky bastard. Or maybe something more than luck was involved. Finn considered the possibility, but slowly shook his head. Adams would have nothing to gain by sabotaging the power plant. Not that it really made any difference one way or another, at least not as far as the trapped occupants of the room were concerned. Still, Finn hated to die without solving the mystery. At the very least, he intended to record his theory for the use of investigators. He tapped out a quick email to his wife, giving her his love and telling her of his suspicions. Then he grabbed his cell phone to confront Dante before it was too late. “You bastard, what did you do to us? The control center is filling with radiation.” “Finn? Is that you?” Dante’s slick voice oozed through the line. “My God, what’s wrong? Is there a problem at the power center?” “Don’t pull that innocent crap with me, Adams. I don’t know how or why, but I do know this is an inside job and if it’s the last thing I do I’m going to make sure you’re held accountable for…” “Finn? I can barely hear you…There seems to be a problem with your transmission. Our saboteur must have activated the communications filter. I’m going to sign off now. Good luck.” Finn swore as the transmission was replaced by dead air. All around him he saw people shaking their cell phones and trying desperately to re-establish their connection. The bastard! Finn cursed himself for tipping Dante to his suspicions. If only he had gone to someone official first, but it was too late for that now. His only hope was that his wife would pursue the matter after reading his email, but without proof she’d just sound like a grieving woman trying to find someone to blame for a horrible accident. Worse yet, Dante had the power to have her deported --or worse. Damn. He hurriedly tapped an email to warn Maureen not to make waves, but only received an apologetic message that the server was down. Big surprise. He glanced desperately around the room, a glimmer of hope surfacing as he saw Wolfe London arguing with the security guards. Maybe there was still a chance to get the truth out. * * * Shasta Lynch chuckled as she watched the others panic. She tried to tell them that the whole thing was just part of the game, but they wouldn’t listen to her. Of course, she’d never been one that people paid attention to, but that would all change once she became famous for winning the challenge. Being accepted as a participant in the latest reality show – New Alaska or Bust – had been the greatest thing that ever happened to her. At the very least, she’d gotten passage to the colony. If all went well, she could end up having her own little shop on pricey Klondike Ave. There’d been over a hundred applicants for the show, of which only twelve had been chosen. The goal was to prove that you were the best risk to be sponsored as a small business entrepreneur. Shasta’s shop – once she won the competition – would be a boutique showcasing the best hand sewn clothing on the colony. Forget Paris, London and New York. Shasta’s on Klondike was destined to be the next great name in fashion. During the previous week, the contestants had been tested on their creativity, ability to improvise and their marketing sense. Obviously this alleged radiation leak was designed to test her panic quotient. Well, they could just forget about that one. She was smarter than the average bear and had no intention of freaking out for the benefit of the hidden cameras, wherever they were. She had to admit that the test was convincing. The others were all crying, praying or hyperventilating. She supposed they were all actors. It would be too cruel to actually tell regular people that there was a radiation link when there wasn’t. Surely even reality TV producers wouldn’t stoop that low. Would they? But still, if these people were actors, they were the best she’d ever seen. She made her way to a woman who was huddled by the wall. Someone must have forgotten to tell her about the challenge, because this woman was shaking like a leaf. No actress –no matter how accomplished – could pull that off. “Look, it’s ok. This is all just a game.” Shasta knelt beside Mikayla. “It’s for a reality show called New Alaska or Bust. The first episode aired last week. You must not have seen it.” “What? Reality show?” Mikayla shook her head. “I don’t understand. We’re all going to die. There’s no way out of here. Those doors are built to withstand a terrorist’s bomb.” “No, it’s ok. I know it seems awfully realistic, but it’s just a test.” Shasta surveyed the room. “Though I admit that it’s weird that none of the other contestants are here. It does seem like a lot of work just to see how I’d react, but you don’t know these people. When they say you really have to want to win, they’re not kidding. Why, just yesterday we..” “Are you insane? This isn’t a reality show. This is reality.” Shasta shook her head stubbornly. “Give me your cell. I’ll prove it to you...” Mikayla grabbed the woman’s phone and tried desperately to contact Dante, but she couldn’t get a signal. She tossed the cell against the wall, to land next to her own worthless phone. “Damn it. Yours won’t work either.” “Hey, that’s expensive!” Shasta hurriedly retrieved the phone. “It’s not even mine. It belongs to the challenge people.” “This isn’t a game, you little idiot! We’re dying!” Mikayla shook the girl. “Get a grip!” “You get a grip!” Shasta shoved her away and dashed across the room. She pounded on the door, no longer caring if she lost points for losing her cool. “Stop it! This isn’t fair. These people don’t know about the challenge. Stop it! You’ve gone too far!” The door remained closed, the siren blared on. Shasta bit her lip as the slow realization hit her. Her panicked scream added to the ensuing chaos. * * * Wolfe backed against the chill wall and spoke slowly and clearly into his camcorder. Some dispassionate part of him was all too aware of the ratings value of this particular story. Washed out reporter drifts to New Alaska and is the only journalist on hand as a group of innocents slowly dies from radiation poison. What a scoop! Regular Pulitzer Prize material. Too bad he wouldn’t live to claim his trophy. “The room is filled with apprehension as the trapped souls realize that they’re living their last moments. A woman weeps. The security chief doggedly consults the computer. Some pray while others curse the Heavens. One woman seems to be in complete denial and claims the leak is part of a reality show challenge. This reporter is compelled by the need to leave some last record behind.” After years of struggling against government censorship for his reports criticizing the power elite, Wolfe now had one brief shot at immortality. He could envision the headlines bouncing around both New Alaska and the old home he’d been forced to abandon. Blacklisted reporter loyal to the truth to the end. He circulated throughout the room, recording last messages and final wishes. He noted carefully Chief Finn’s preliminary findings – the accident was no accident – and the security man’s suspicions that forces from on high were behind the tragedy. Why, neither he nor Finn could surmise. Perhaps someone in the room was the target and the others were merely collateral damage. Or perhaps discrediting the viability of the colony was the real goal. Whatever the motive, whoever was responsible for their imminent deaths was likely to remain free. All communication with the outside world had been cut off and it was unlikely that anyone would ever be able to listen to anything he was recording or would ever come into their tomb to read the meticulous notes that Finn was making. Wolfe knew enough about radiation to know that the room would remain sealed for years, until the radiation levels dropped to an acceptable level. Still, maybe some future researcher would deem the truth worth the risk of entering the room. It was something he would do himself. Surely others would come who were as obsessed with the truth as he was. Wolfe felt nauseous as he wrapped up his report and laid his camcorder gently on the table for some future reporter to find. The journalist who revealed the truth behind their deaths would no doubt earn a Pulitzer Prize. He wondered abstractly who the lucky journalist would be and regretted that it wouldn’t be Wolfe London. * * * * Dante Adams rehearsed for his upcoming media interview as he waited for Eden to finish cooking his dinner. Horrible, absolutely horrible. Such a tragedy, made worse by the fact that it had been completely avoidable. If only they hadn’t been so quick to sign off on the colony’s security plans. If only they had given it more consideration, if only they’d called in more experts. It was ironic that the chief of security should become trapped with the other hapless victims. Poetic justice, perhaps. No, that was too harsh. People didn’t like to trash a victim. At least, not at first. He’d wait a few days, then sadly suggest that poor, dearly departed Chief Finn might have been responsible for the radiation debacle. We mustn’t be too harsh on the man, however. Whatever mistakes he might have made, he wasn’t driven by malice. “What’s so funny?” “What?” Dante quickly adopted a somber expression as Eden brought him his evening martini. “Oh. I was just thinking about something humorous Finn said once. I guess this isn’t the time…” “I know how hard this is for you.” Eden offered Dante the remote control, gestured at the live report of the tragedy. “Maybe you should turn it off.” “No. I can’t. I owe them that much. It could have been me in there. “ Dante wiped away a mock tear as his young assistant sat next to him and laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. Gone was Mikayla and her incessant demands. Gone was the honorable and incorruptible Chief Finn. Gone was the colony’s most annoying reporter, the one who spent most of his spare time looking for governmental scandals. Here, beside him, was the beautiful and simple-minded Eden. He was, indeed, the master of his destiny. His only regret was the death of Shasta Lynch, the girl from the reality show. Though the contest was meant to be secret until a winner was chosen, Dante had enough connections to know which of the contestants was in the lead. He’d had a sizeable bet running on Shasta’s success, but even he couldn’t have everything. Still, he’d make up the money auctioning off the exclusive inside story of the New Alaska incident to several competing news agencies. * * * *
Copyright © 2006 Ej McFall |