“I don’t care. Do you understand?” Emily said, defiantly, “If you want Jelly, you will go out there and tell that little Russian boy that his cat died because of you… and us.”
“Are you out of your tiny English mind?” Dimitri yelped. “Emily, I beg you to reconsider.”
“And stop calling me Emily,” she fumed, wondering why the men in the room weren’t using formal address. “You don’t know me. We’re not on first-name terms.”
“I’m sorry if I offended you, but—”
“—Stop talking. I don’t want your apologies.”
Emily took a moment to catch her breath and calm down, much to the consternation of those in the room.
“That’s the offer,” she said. “I want proof of them having been told. I can be there with you if you like, but I need to know you did it.”
“One moment, please,” Maar said.
He and Dimitri whispered to each other, holding their hands over their mouths.
Emily tried to catch on to what they were saying, but their conversation was surreptitious to a fault.
Wool and Tripp looked away from Emily and, instead, smiled at Jamie.
“Looking at my son won’t do any good, mate,” she said to Tripp. “This condition isn’t up for negotiation.”
Wool tried for a smile. “You do know that if Jelly joins us on the mission to Saturn, she’ll be an instrumental part in deciphering the first extra-terrestrial message we’ve ever received. It could be a life changing event.”
“Saturn?” Jamie blurted. “She’s going to Saturn?”
“I’m sure it will be a life-changing event,” Emily smiled back at her, though somewhat angrily. “Let’s hope your bosses make the right decision.”
Maar and Dimitri adjusted their ties and cleared their throats. “We have decided on a compromise.”
“It’d better be good.”
“We will inform Remy and his family of what happened to his cat. But we would rather keep this update hidden from the public.”
“Fine by me. I don’t care about the public,” Emily said, somewhat satisfied. “All I care about is them being told.”
“Relations right now between our two countries are not exactly strong, despite our confederacy,” Dimitri said. “We are trying to strengthen our relationship and abide by the 2085 Bering Treaty. If word gets out that a Russian citizen died during this process, it could start a second cold war.”
“So, you’ll tell them?”
“Yes,” Maar said, “And as far as everyone is concerned, Bisoubisou is alive and well and a member of the crew of Space Opera Beta. No one will know that Jelly took her place. We pay the Gagarin family for their silence, and pay you for your participation—”
“—and everybody is happy,” Dimitri finished.
A sense of satisfaction settled across the table.
Emily looked through the bars of Jelly’s carry case. The cat looked back at her and licked her mouth.
“I suppose that suits us,” Emily said, taking a final glance at the team. “It looks like you’ve got yourselves your first cat in space.”
“I guess that’s excellent,” Maar said. “Pleasure doing business with you.”
Everyone stood up from their chairs and tucked them under the table. Business had been conducted, and USARIC and the Anderson family were happy.
“Mom?”
“What, poppet?”
“Does this mean Jelly is going, after all?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“So, here’s what will happen next,” Tripp said, “We’ll take delivery of Jelly tomorrow morning. We’ll message the papers to your hotel so you can peruse them and return them to us tomorrow, all signed and sealed. Sound good?”
“Sounds good,” Emily said.
Tripp walked over to Jamie and squatted in front of him. “And tomorrow, we can give you a little tour of Space Opera Beta. Show you where Jelly’s going to spend the next few years.”
“Oh, wow,” Jamie jumped on the spot. “Really?”
“Yes, really. It’s the least we can do,” Tripp said. “Look, I promise you, Jamie. Jelly is going to be fine. And I’d like to introduce you to every one who’ll be working with her.”
Tripp did a great job of reassuring Jamie. It meant the world to Jamie’s mother.
CHAPTER SIX
“Welcome to the United States and Russian Intergalactic Confederation.”
The USARIC logo, a dead-mix of fifty-two stars and a hammer, spun around on its axis in the middle of the room. Random footage of planets orbiting the solar system, happy families and astronauts working on IMS zipped around it.
“For the past quarter-century, USARIC has been searching the outer reaches of our galaxy. Exploring the depths of civilization and strengthening the lives of all its citizens. We hope you enjoy your visit. May your day be productive and full of vigor.”
Jamie mired at the screen, holding Jelly in her carry case. “I can’t believe we’re actually here.”
Emily tugged his sleeve and nodded at the double doors. “I think that’s them.”
“Ah, hello. Emily,” Tripp held out his hand to shake.
Emily smiled, finding it hard to ignore his pulchritude. The man was good-looking, to be sure, but this was pure business. She remained as professional as she could.
“Good after-morning, captain.”
“Oh, I’m not the captain,” Tripp explained, “I’m second-in-charge, Commander Healy.”
“I see,” Emily finally looked him up and down. “I have to ask, what does your wife think about you spending years away from home?”
“She’s used to the idea. It’s part and parcel of the business, I’m afraid,” Tripp smiled and threw Jamie a sly wink. “S’up, champ?”
“Hello, sir.”
“Jamie, right?”
“Yes.”
“Well, Jamie, here in the United States we no longer use gender-specific titles.”
“What is that?”
“You know. Titles? You’re too young to remember when everyone called people mister and missus and things like that, right?”
‘No,” Jamie said, “We do that all the time. It’s polite.”
‘Well, it’s the law here now. It’s very rude to assume people’s genders when we—”
Tripp stopped talking when Jelly’s carry case. She revealed her teeth and showed him her behind.
“Huh. Charming,” Tripp stood back up and addressed Jamie. “In our country we use people’s first names so we don’t offend people.”
“That’s weird,” Jamie said in his naivety.
“That’s fine. You Brits talk weird, anyway,” Tripp rubbed his hands together and clocked Jamie and Emily’s visitor badges. “Okay, you’re all signed in?”
“Yes,” Emily said, fighting back the desire to pick up Tripp’s blatant xenophobic remark. “We’re ready.”
“Good stuff,” Tripp turned around and nodded at the receptionist. She hit a button and opened the entrance gates. “Let’s go see the spaceship!”
“Yay,” Jamie skipped forward alongside Tripp.
“Brits?” Emily muttered, shook her head and followed behind them. “Pfft. Cheeky git.”
The mother of all space crafts. Beautiful and elegant, almost prestigious-looking. The cone-shaped vessel stood upright on its thrusters, pointing at the sky. There was no denying its profound uniqueness in relation to its sister space crafts.
The sheer size of its structure impressed Jamie as he, Tripp and Emily walked along the airstrip to the scaffolding keeping the ship in place.
A couple of fighter jets, military personnel and technicians littered the runway, performing checks on various vehicles.