The following is the 13th and latest in a series of short stories I’ve developed and, I think, quite different from anything I’ve ever written. I started this one some months ago and stopped for a bunch of months until I felt I could focus enough on how I wanted to develop it. Now I have. I hope you enjoy it.
The Saturn Caper
He sits there, near but apart from the raucous crowd. He stays silent; unperturbed yet somewhat envious. He looks longingly out his window to the world as it surrounds him, yet he feels he has no way out other than escaping through his mind’s eye. He is isolated; one man, a myriad of thought, complex and curious. He is but a singular entity of molecules and atoms, put together as only the Devine One can do. But what now? What does the future hold? Will his talent dry up? Will his isolation end? Will he become obsolete? Only his Future Self knows for sure. And he’s not talking.
A time traveler who has grown weary of traveling back and forth between periods in time, staying to himself, illusive and alone.
When he’s not gallivanting across time and space, he’s fond of hotel lobbies. But not just any lobby will do; only ones who have special flair, design and some aspect of old world charm. The Majestic Hotel of 20th Century Earth in Lake Charles, La is one such place. The Hilton Hotel on the moon is another.
Presently, he resides at a seaside resort on Alphacom 6 in the Delta Quadrant. The year is 3658. All is quiet as he sits outside on his porch overlooking the Meza Lagoon.
He comes here to gather his thoughts and reacquaint himself with his sanity. As he sits alone, sipping from his rescued bottle of Romulan ale, he’s pretty much at peace. Yet he wonders if this is all there is now to his life, being semi-retired.
“Incoming call from Admiral Nehiamia,” intones a voice, though soothing, breaking the silence.
The question of the moment was whether or not to answer it. He knew the Admiral would not be calling unless it was necessary, even though the two have known each other since college.
Might as well get it over with, he thought. So, with a longer than usual sip of his Romulan ale, he answered.
“George, nice to hear from you. Why in Hell are you bothering me?”
“Well, it’s nice to chat with you, too,” responded the Admiral. “I have an assignment for you if you’re interested,” he said.
“And what if I’m not?” was the retort.
“Then I’ll let you go back to whatever you were doing and wonder what magical excitement you turned down,” deadpanned the Admiral.
“Alright, alright, I’ll listen,” he replied, thinking he would regret it. Loneliness notwithstanding, he had grown to appreciate and like his semi-retirement.
“I need you to scope out a newly discovered hotel site on Saturn,” calmly stated the Admiral. “We think it might be a front for smuggling. . . uh, smuggling of minds,” he continued.
“Come again,” blurted out Mr. Curtis.
“You heard me right,” said the Admiral. “This is not your typical smuggling operation, if it is what we suspect, “ he admitted.
“Did you say ‘minds’? How in Hell does one smuggle a mind? Doesn’t one normally need a body?” asked Curtis.
“There’s nothing normal about this operation,” said the Admiral. “We just don’t have enough information to draw any conclusions, let alone sufficient info to shut them down,” he explained.
“We suspect the “mind” or brain as we know it to be is severed from the body and drawn upon, somehow, to be used in other forms of life, with or without a body,” furthered the Admiral. “If this is the case, it would make for a prescription for the perfect murder; that is, no one to blame or prosecute,” he stated flatly.
Accepting the assignment meant putting his isolationism in jeopardy. Had he gotten so used to being alone that he couldn’t put it at risk? He wasn’t sure but found himself almost welcoming the change in schedule. In a sense the assignment could be medicinal for him. It would allow more of a work-life balance he sort of yearned for.
He told the Admiral he would leave for Saturn in the morning.
****************
In all his travels, ironically, he'd never visited Saturn. Who knows, he thought, this might be a treat.
In reality, of course, he knew better. This venture would be challenging. He was still trying to get his head around the concept of "mind smuggling." That just sounds weird, he thought.
Upon arriving at Saturn, he felt the first order of business was to find a place to stay and set up his "visiting HQ." He sought out a Hilton since he'd had a good experience at the one on the Moon. Once there, he could map out a so-called plan of attack, though the initial efforts would most likely take the form of an under-the-radar type opps.
Once settled in, he felt he should try and contact the Admiral's liaison for Saturn, one Stephanie Moore, a dedicated investigator who has been leading the efforts to identify and put an end to the trafficking. Curtis set up a meeting with Ms. Moore there at the Hilton so he could better understand the whole situation.
As it was, Moore explained that the trafficking ring had to be stopped due to the ban on mind "stealing" established years ago. There was just too much danger and risk involved to the body of the one being stolen. All that would be left would be the mind in the form of 100% pure energy with no body. As the result was too much of an assault on the human body, higher blood pressure and pulse rate to begin with, the process was banned even though the practice would continue illegally for years.
Curtis learned from Moore that the ringleader of the trafficking was a man called Ramone Sanchez, a Peruvian expat who had migrated to Saturn from Earth earlier this century and who had a history of crime and all sorts of trafficking matters. Moore emphasized that he was not one to be toyed with; he'd just as soon behead you as look at you. Nice guy, Curtis thought.
The more Curtis learned about this operation, it seemed logical that taking out Sanchez by assassination or explosion along with the complete disruption and destruction of the mind stealing lab and plan facility would be paramount in importance. Thus, a plan to do so was created.
It’s one thing to create a plan; it’s another to put it into action. But that’s precisely what Curtis and Moore had to do. It had to be done quickly and precisely. The element of surprise would be in their favor.
Because of Moore’s extensive experience as an investigator, she would be able to call upon her network to assist in this operation. Since Moore had already scoped out Sanchez’s HQ, she felt that the best time to hit them would be in the early morning hours like 3am.
Even though Curtis had not known Moore that long, he was impressed with her and her ability to put their plan together in a way that made sense and could work.
*************
They had no sooner began to execute their plan when a series of explosions rattled them and the team. Debris and falling rock was descending upon them from all sides. While they expected some surprises, that were caught off guard by this sudden series of explosions, especially since they had barely entered the HQ.
Half their team had been obliterated and Moore was injured, although she could maneuver. Curtis was unharmed. As a result, their plan had been seriously compromised. They did, however, continue their pursuit. Next up was locating Ramone Sanchez himself.
They didn’t have to wait very long because it seemed like out of nowhere, Sanchez appeared before them, with an army of soldiers behind him. Saying that Curtis & Co. were outnumbered at this juncture was an understatement.
Before long, both Curtis and Moore were taken hostage while what was left of their team was shown at gun point to a secure part of the facility’s lair. While being put in separate quarters, though next to one another, Curtis and Moore began to reconsider their next steps.
Before Curtis realized it the door to his unit opened and Sanchez appeared before him. He was not at all what Curtis expected. Sanchez was actually a good looking man, appearing to be about six foot tall with a well manicured, salt and pepper beard. When he spoke, his English was excellent. Come to find out, he was educated at Oxford in England and obtained a PhD in physics from the Sorbonne in France.
So, Curtis thought, how the hell did a guy like this end up in the trafficking business on another planet. Maybe he would eventually find out; maybe he wouldn’t. Either way, Curtis couldn’t care less. His job was to bring an end to the trafficking business and Sanchez in the process. How it would be done, Curtis hadn’t figured that out yet. He did think that by eliminating the “head of the snake” the rest would fall into place.
“Welcome, Mr. Curtis. Welcome to my world,” intoned Sanchez, as he stood at the doorway of the “guest quarters.” “I trust you’ll find your accommodations to your satisfaction. Enjoy them while you can, sir. Your stay won’t be that long, I assure you,” cordially asserted Sanchez.
“That’s very gracious of you, Mr. Sanchez,” replied Curtis. “You’re right, I don’t intend to be here that long,” Curtis assured Sanchez. They both knew why Curtis and Moore were there.
“By the way, Mr. Sanchez, how’s my associate, Ms. Moore?” asked Mr. Curtis. “She’s alright; she’s being looked after,” replied Sanchez.
“What do you intend to do with us?” asked Curtis. “Absolutely nothing,” stated Sanchez. “Of course you’ll never leave here. You two are my guests, permanently. Who knows, you might even take part in my grand scheme,” stated Sanchez.
“And what might that be?” inquired Curtis.
“Oh it’s relatively simple, Mr. Curtis. I intend to capture the minds of everyone on Saturn and control them. All that energy will aid me in doing the same thing on other planets. This process has never even been attempted before. . . until now. I will be the first, the pioneer, to succeed,” proclaimed Sanchez.
“What makes you think you can get away with this scheme?,” asked Curtis. “Human trafficking was illegal back in the 21st century, and this is worse than what you’re proposing.” stated Curtis.
“Regardless, Mr. Curtis, this is a painless process. The body is not harmed. I’m just after the mind; more specifically the mind’s energy,” Sanchez flatly stated.
Despite the fact that Curtis had heard about this from the admiral, he couldn’t believe what he was hearing from Sanchez. There was no emotion, just a flat explanation of what was to be.
“This guy’s insane,” Curtis thought.
“Well Mr. Curtis, I must leave you now. I have plans to put into motion,” calmly stated Sanchez. And with that he briskly turned around and was gone.
Curtis felt that time to act was slipping away and he needed to contact Ms. Moore to see what her thoughts were given Sanchez’s recent statements.
Before they embarked on this little journey, both Curtis and Moore each possessed a special communication device. It acted like a satellite phone but could not be detected. It was implanted in the wrist. A simple touch of the wrist area would activate it. Afterward, all that was needed was to speak into the wrist area and say the name of the person needing to be contacted. Curtis did just that.
He had Moore on the line in moments. After assuring Curtis that she was okay, they began planning their next steps. They not only needed to remove Sanchez from the operation, like in assassination, but they also had to “blow up” the system that orchestrates the trafficking.
They both felt that removing the ringleader Sanchez was the top priority. They reasoned that once this was done, the rest of the trafficking ring would be shut down or at least have a serious dent put into it. They also reasoned that their current location was very near or housed central command.
***********
While Curtis was talking with Moore, the door to his unit suddenly opened and in came an unknown visitor. He said his name was Walter Hughes and was part of the “Underground Justice Group.”
Though Curtis was taken off guard with Hughes’ entrance, he blurted out “Well Mr. Hughes, why are you here and what the hell is the Underground Justice Group?”
Mr. Hughes explained, “Mr. Curtis, I know who you are and why you and Ms. Moore are here. My group is here to help. We know things that you don’t.”
Before Curtis could even begin questioning Hughes, Hughes continued. “We are part of an undercover unit that has been operating on Saturn for several months. Our group is made up of people from several planets with the sole responsibility to monitor and eradicate any and all trafficking efforts. This mind trafficking is relatively new but extremely deadly, especially if it falls into the wrong hands, as it has here on Saturn. Trust me when I say that Sanchez is extremely dangerous and cunning. He’s nobody’s fool.”
“Well,” Curtis began, “Since it sounds like you know a great deal about this place and Sanchez, how do we get to him? Am I also to assume that a surprise attack would be the correct tactic?”
“Yes,” replied Hughes. “However, it’s got to be well orchestrated and executed to perfection.”
“How about an early morning raid on Central Command, like 0500? They may not be expecting anything like that at that time of day,” expressed Curtis.
So the plan was adopted and the team assembled at the agreed upon meeting place. Curtis, standing next to Moore, was tense. He was anxious about what was to come but felt fairly confident of the outcome.
There had been no sign of Sanchez but Curtis felt their position would give them an optimal chance for the kill shot. Now they waited.
Sanchez was known for taking early walks each morning and he was usually alone. This morning was no different as Sanchez came into sight. Curtis, wasting no time, got into position making sure his aim was precise, began to slowly squeeze the trigger of his custom Walther 5000 XLR (extra laser range) when he felt the cold metal end of a gun barrel squeezing up against the back of his neck.
“You pull that trigger, Mr. Curtis, and you’ll be on your way to a one way journey to Hell,” the grizzled voice proclaimed behind him. As Curtis released the pressure on the trigger and removed his hand from the gun, the voice from behind told him to get down on the ground with his hands spread out and flat.
While Curtis was doing what he was told, Moore spun around and with a slick half turn targeted a laser blast into the left side of the voice’s body. After the first blast stunned “the voice,” Moore targeted another laser beam at the left temple. Within seconds, the voice crumbled to the ground dead.
Moore looked around to see if there were anymore surprises waiting near them. As she did so, Curtis had regained his position and relocated Sanchez. Drawing a bead on him, Curtis prepared to take the shot. Within seconds the little red dot of the laser was positioned right above Sanchez’s left eye. Curtis slowly pulled the trigger and Sanchez was down. The people around him seemed stunned, as they appeared to move in slow motion.
The snake’s head had been destroyed. The team now faced the aftermath of severely disrupting the organization. They were off to a good start.
************
After a brief regrouping Curtis, Moore and Hughes proceeded with the next phase of their quest: the dismantling of the Command Center. The operation of their mind capture process may not be totally destroyed but it could be severely damaged. Afterwords the reorganization of any kind of mass effort to reignite the trafficking movement would be thwarted and headed up by the Admiral.
Curtis & Co. thought it best to strike while the iron was hot so they immediately began to implement “Operation Take Down.” Within moments the threesome quietly headed for the Center. They figured that one or two fusion bombs would do it. Set on a timer, they would provide total annihilation of the Center and everything around it.
Curtis and Moore, while remaining undetected, placed the bombs strategically on opposite sides of the Center for maximum effect. Timers were set for ten minutes until detonation. They had to move quickly to get out of harm’s way.
Just as they were headed away, two security guards stopped them and demanded an explanation as to why they were there without security badges. This was done, of course, with two high powered laser rifles pointed right at them.
There was no time to give an explanation because of the turmoil surrounding Sanchez’s assassination. Instead, Curtis and Moore immediately jumped the guards, catching them by surprise, with two brilliant karate moves, leaving both guards unconscious.
As soon as that episode ended, Curtis contacted Hughes to transport them out of there. Seconds later they were gone.
As soon as they had been transported to safety, Curtis checked his chronometer to see how much time remained before the bombs would blow. Any second now.
BOOM . . . Well there went the first one, Curtis thought. Then the ground started to shake and everything around them reacted like they were having an earthquake. Even though they were a safe distance away, they still felt the repercussions of the bomb.
Then, BOOM, the second one detonated. For a few seconds everything went quiet. It was rather eerie. Moments later they would experience earthquake like repercussions again. After it was over the Command Center was reduced to rubble.
**********
At least for now there would be no experiments on the mind let alone the trafficking of same. Now, Curtis needed to contact the Admiral to give him a report. The mission was a success and Curtis felt pretty good about that. He was also relieved that he’d be going back home soon.
The Admiral was indeed pleased with the outcome of the operation and praised Curtis for his involvement and leadership. It was during this conversation that the Admiral threw Curtis an unexpected curveball.
“Look George, I can’t wait to get back to my home planet and sip on a nice tall goblet of Romulan ale,” said Curtis.
“I wish I could agree with you that that’s your next destination, but it isn’t,” replied the Admiral. “There’s an uprising on Neptune I need you to look into. It’s not as severe as the one you just stopped but it does pose a very dangerous situation to this galaxy,” continued the Admiral.
“George, my next stop will be back home; I have a date with a Romulan and she tastes delightful. You’ll either have to engage this venture without me or wait until I decide to rejoin your forces,” flatly stated Curtis.
“Well, I guess we’ll just see,” replied the Admiral. “Yes, George, I guess we will,” responded Curtis.
Little did either one of them know they would next be talking face to face in the very near future. And neither would be prepared for it.