An Alabama Highway
May, 2018
Someone is following me.
The thought hit the middle-aged Japanese man as his knuckles tightened on the faux leather steering wheel. In the slow-moving stream of vehicles clogging the Alabama highway offramp, his eyes darted between the side mirrors and rearview, tracking a black SUV three cars back.
The morning sun pressed down through the windshield, turning his modest sedan into an oven. His stomach churned. Nothing is supposed to go wrong today. For some reason, the congested highway outside NASA’s facility crawled at a painful pace, he moved with the other cars but his dread wasn’t necessarily from the gridlock and swearing American workers on the way to their jobs.
Dr. Tommy Saku gripped the wheel as his car crept through the dawn traffic. Ahead, the DARPA launch loomed—a culmination of years of work. The telescope, his creation, would expose the world’s top methane polluters, finally forcing accountability. The possibilities thrilled him: actionable data, innovation, maybe even saving the planet.
But unease gnawed at him. The Zitcore Corporation, the project's shadowy Russian backer, rarely acted without an ulterior motive. Officially, the satellite targeted climate change. Secretly, the scientist knew it was designed to map Earth's ley lines—ryūmyaku, dragon paths of ancient Japanese lore. These invisible veins of power, long dismissed as myth, represented untold energy. To Zitcore, they were a resource to exploit. To Tommy, they were something far more dangerous.
His hands tightened on the wheel. The launch wasn’t just about saving the world—it might unleash forces he barely understood. The sky might hold answers, but down here, the war for Earth’s future was just beginning. Today was DARPA’s launch—his launch—nothing was supposed to go wrong, today.
And he was late. There was no turning back now.
Ahead, NASA’s towering facilities stood like sentinels against the horizon. But something felt off. The SUV behind him changed lanes. So did Tommy. It followed, steady, deliberate. His pulse quickened. Paranoia? Or are they really after me?
A stir of motion to his left caught Tommy’s eye in his side mirror—a teenager in a beat-up Ford pickup truck. He caught a glance at the young boy’s face twisted in intense irritation. As the pickup truck passed, the kid’s hand flung out the driver’s side window. Then, the crude gesture: the middle finger, thrust into the morning air like a rocket destined for space.
Tommy sighed. A kid, barely old enough to drive, telling him to drive faster when traffic was slowed to a crawl.
Behind the irritation and the fear that simmered under his cool exterior, Tommy knew what the boy saw: a slow, slanty-eyed, dark-haired Japanese immigrant; someone out of place. It didn’t matter that he was Dr. Thomas Saku, head of DARPA, leading today’s telescope launch for the newly minted division of the U.S military called Space Force.
None of that mattered to the rude driver who saw only a foreigner.
There in traffic, Tommy was the enemy, the other. And fear of the other could be a powerful thing, the irony was too thick. What do they see when they look at me, he wondered to himself, tense behind the wheel of his car and going nowhere. The clock on the dash blinked angrily: 7:35 a.m. Twenty-five minutes until the final security check at NASA. But the line of cars on the off ramp weren’t moving. His heart thudded against his ribcage.
What if I don’t make it in time? came his panicked thought, unbridled. A bead of sweat formed on the dimple in his forehead. Surely they won’t start without me, he told himself, but he wasn’t so sure, with this President in office.
Today’s launch window was tight. A misstep, a delay, and the whole project could crumble.
As if sensing his rising tension, a shrill sound shattered the heavy silence in the car, his communication device buzzed savagely in the cup holder and made him jump in the driver’s seat. Tommy grabbed it instinctively, he had expected another call from one of his technicians, but that call never came.
His glance at the caller ID stopped Tommy cold, it was his partner and colleague, Dr. Murray Anderson.
Tommy pushed the receive button.
Murray’s voice was tense on the other end of the line. “Tommy, they’ve taken Maya,” the man said quietly.
Tommy’s heart sank, all the saliva left his mouth in an instant, he almost slammed into the car in front of him with the shock. “What are you talking about?” he asked into the phone at once.
“Your daughter,” Murray told him. “She never made it to school this morning, they have her,” said the man on the futuristic smartphone plainly, his voice perfectly digital and clear as if he sat right beside Tommy.
The world around Dr. Saku seemed to shrink for a moment, the blurred horizon of the highway before him closed in like a camera close-up, the oppressive Alabama heat in his car was now suffocating. His stomach twisted.
The black SUV loomed closer in his mirror. Tommy’s mind spun. His daughter—his anchor, his reason for enduring the chaos of this secret life—was gone.
Gone.
“Rick said—” Tommy stammered, trying to piece together words that wouldn’t come. “You said they wouldn’t—”
“Our employers don’t follow the rules, Tom,” Dr. Anderson suggested somewhat harshly. “And neither do our enemies. The people who hired us—Tommy, they’re playing a different game. They want more than just this launch. They want leverage, and now they have your kid. Maybe you should stop it for a day. We can talk to Rick, get them to negotiate, perhaps they’ll…”
Tommy’s breath hitched. “I’m caught, don’t you see? I can’t,” he said with a dreaded passion.
“Dammit, we’ve come too far,” he accused his partner in frustration as the line of cars on the off ramp before him broke and moved forward only to stop again.
“Well, you don’t have a choice anymore,” said Dr. Anderson sadly. “Someone made sure of that,” he said.
The line on Tommy’s IPhone went dead.
They’ll kill her unless I do what they want. But what if doing what they want doomed everyone else?
* * * * * * * * * * *
Now off the highway, outside his car the line of vehicles waiting for entry into the nearby military base inched forward, but inside, Tommy’s world stood still.
His hands trembled as he lowered his device into his lap, the pressure and weight of the day’s grim reality pressed down on him. Maya—his brilliant, beautiful daughter—was in danger.
Angrily, he shot a look to the gleaming towers of the NASA compound ahead, the high-tech nerve center of American aerospace there in the middle of America. And beyond that, somewhere out in the depths of some warehouse nearby, waited his DARPA satellite that would change everything. 2017 had been a maelstrom—North Korea’s nuclear saber-rattling, hurricanes battering the Americas, and the #MeToo movement igniting a cultural reckoning.
The first half of 2018 fared no better: escalating trade wars sent markets into disarray, record heat waves melted polar ice, and whispers of a shadow war in space crept into classified conversations. Time ticked onward, indifferent to humanity’s missteps, yet the scientist couldn’t shake his growing unease. As the head of DARPA’s global research division, he was more aware than most of the delicate balance holding civilization together—and just how close it was to unraveling. The summer’s heat of 2018 climbed into the record books and slowed Tommy down considerably, the campus sprawled across this heavily wooded area before him bustled with activity. This vast military complex was officially known as the Marshall Space Flight Center, located in the heart of what was called the Redstone Arsenal.
Located in Huntsville, Alabama, the large U.S. Army post before him was known for its critical role in the development of missiles, rocketry, and space exploration technology. Established in 1941, the base began as a site for chemical munitions production during World War II, but their mission evolved over time. After the war, it became a hub for the U.S. Army's missile programs and space-related research, particularly during the Cold War era.
Nestled within the Redstone Arsenal, this heavily-guarded installation was surrounded by dense pine forests that created a natural barrier, further reinforcing their high security military measures.
Tommy's heart pounded as his car finally rolled into the secure checkpoint. The familiar sight of armed guards, military Humvees, and nervous young soldiers greeted him as he pulled to the main gate and stopped his car. He saw the formidable security fence, topped with razor wire and punctuated by watchtowers. Squads of armed guards patrolled these towers, their watchful eyes scanned the surroundings for any signs of intrusion. At the security checkpoint to the main entrance, a massive reinforced gate stood under vigilant guard, security personnel and a series of surveillance cameras provided a 360-degree view of the area.
Despite the routine, there was an undeniable tension in the air, like everyone was on edge, waiting for something to go wrong.
The scientist lowered his window, and the sticky heat of the Alabama morning rushed in, mingling with the scent of fuel and his sweat. A young guard approached, his hand rested on the rifle slung across his chest. “Morning, Charlie,” said Dr. Saku out his window with a forced cheer. “What’s the hold-up?” he asked the solider at the front gate, he kept his voice calm despite the growing storm inside him.
The young American soldier gave Tommy a tight smile, the kind that didn’t reach his eyes, which was new. This kid was scared. “New security protocols installed for the day, Doc. Sorry for the inconvenience,” he said, all business.
No small talk from Charlie today, thought Tommy as he glanced at the clock on his dashboard. His pulse quickened. Seventeen minutes left. He had to be inside before the security freeze started. After that point, no one would be allowed in or out of the military facility. “My security clearance should override this— I must be inside before they start,” claimed the scientist.
The solider now stood at his car window, Charlie leaned over to look down at Dr. Saku, straight in the eye. After a moment, the boy hesitated and shifted his feet. “Ermmm, I know, Doctor Saku, but this will only take a moment. It’s protocol. I have to,” he told the Asian scientist plainly but sincerely apologetic.
Behind Charlie, two additional soldiers approached, they wheeled over a device that looked like a high-tech vacuum cleaner crossed with a telescope. It hummed ominously, the men handled it with the kind of rigid attention that meant one thing: this wasn’t just protocol.
These were direct orders from above. They knew something.
From his car seat, Tommy’s throat went dry as he saw yellow padding on the end of the device—a snug eye guard. They were scanning retinas.
Oh no. No, no, no.
The realization hit him like ice water. They meant to check his retinal patterns. His mind raced, panic clawed at his chest. Every alarm bell in his head went off. This was more than just a security procedure—this was trouble. Real trouble.
With his hand gently resting on his steering wheel, the middle-aged Asian man swallowed hard and tried to smile, forcing a casual tone. “Is that… a retinal scanner?”
Charlie nodded, he tapped the side of the machine. “Yessir, Doc. State-of-the-art tech. We just started training with it this week. Scans into a DNA database or something, supposed to catch anyone who doesn’t belong,” he claimed while setting up the device next to Tommy’s automobile.
Doesn’t belong.
The words cut deep. Tommy felt his automobile sway beneath him. Doesn’t belong.
They had no idea just how much he didn’t belong.
His eyes darted to the soldiers setting up the machine, oblivious to the secret that lay buried behind the scientist’s human façade. The truth, the one he had hidden for so long, was now just one eyeball scan away from being exposed. Because Dr. Thomas Saku wasn’t really Dr. Thomas Saku. Hadn’t been for years.
He was a spy, assigned to infiltrate NASA and sabotage today’s launch from the inside.
He had been placed here in this position as his mission, but after twenty years of impersonating Dr. Thomas Saku, the spy hadn’t counted on getting so attached to the surface world. To the pleasures of human life. And now, the greatest heartbreak of all—his daughter was in danger.
“Doctor Saku?” Charlie’s voice snapped him back to the moment. The scanner was ready. The soldiers stood by, watching him with anticipation. There was no way out.
If they scanned him, his entire cover could be blown. Twenty years of work, this life on Earth, everything he had built since he took over as Dr. Saku—gone in an instant. And worse, his enemies would know. The ones who had his daughter. He had no choice.
Think, think.
His hand tightened on the steering wheel, his knuckles strained white with his fevered grip. The clock on the dash was ticking, and the fate of his daughter, his mission to sabotage NASA’s plans, his very survival rested on what he did next.
The solider held the eye scanner while the two other solders nearby looked on. “Step out of the vehicle, Doctor,” Charlie said.
Tommy’s mind raced. If this scan happened, it could all be over.
* * * * * * * * * * *
His mind, as always, returned to the Skull and Bones Society.
A splinter faction of rebellious reptilian aliens, this group had infiltrated human society centuries ago, playing the role of gods to guide humanity’s development. They had sowed the seeds of civilization, offering forbidden knowledge — agriculture, law, technology — all while quietly steering human evolution to their liking.
Saku's connection to them was deep, insidious. He had been chosen not just for his intelligence, but for his ability to blend in. As a high-ranking member of the Skull and Bones, he was more than just an observer — he was a part of their long-term agenda.
Long-term control. Subjugation. They had posed as gods, advancing humanity to build a civilization that would ultimately serve their hidden masters. Preparing humanity for something much greater, something that only a select few would ever understand.
Some of them, like Saku, had grown disillusioned with the Reptilian’s brutal imperialism. The rebellion within their Society was born from a desire for redemption. These few wanted to atone for the atrocities committed by their kin, to give humanity a chance to evolve on its own terms, beyond the shackles of their ancestral mandate.
The real Tommy had been hiking alone in the dense forests of Japan when the air shimmered and vibrated, an alien whine piercing through the trees. He barely had time to gasp before an unseen force yanked him skyward.
Inside the ship, sleek and suffocating, emerald-scaled beings with slitted eyes surrounded him. They stripped him of movement, then of identity. He screamed, after the pain obviated everything around him, all that was left of Tommy was a suit of his flesh and his sad human memories, embedded into his skin.
The alien slipped inside the suit, its mind suddenly flooded with Tommy’s life: childhood joys, the drive to succeed, even love. The human memories weren’t just data; they lived in the flesh itself, tethering the spy to human emotions it couldn’t fully suppress.
Reinserted on a roadside, the spy seamlessly stepped into Tommy’s life. It worked, lived, and pretended—but the human soul lingered in the stolen flesh, a silent passenger.
Now, behind the wheel of his cheap automobile, the NASA security checkpoint loomed. The suit of skin he wore felt heavier, the memories stirring, whispering of a life stolen. The spy shook them off. It had a mission.
Caught in the headlights of inevitability, the scientist had no choice but to comply.
The soldiers, very officious, motioned for the older Asian man to step out of his car. His pulse raced, but outwardly, he moved with the calm precision expected from the head of DARPA. Anti-climactically, he opened the door, and stepped into the scorching Alabama heat.
Before he could resist, Charlie pushed the device toward him—a high-tech tool of scrutiny, cold and unforgiving. The padded eye guard was thrust against his face.
Tommy’s breath hitched as the machine whirred to life, scanning his retina with a flash of light and a puff of air that made his eye water. Then, in an instant, there was a chime. A green light blinked on the device, signaling his approval.
“Thanks, Doc. Have a good launch today,” said the soldier, already looking past him to the next car in line.
That was it? Tommy stood there, dumbstruck.
After all that dread, after the gut-wrenching panic that had seized his mind—this was all?
His secret was still safe. The suit of skin he wore, skin that once belonged to the real Dr. Thomas Saku, had done its job flawlessly. The retinal patterns, the DNA genetic coding, everything was still intact, rendering him undetectable, invisible to the human military systems designed to expose him.
The spy blinked. Shaking his dark thoughts, Tommy got back into his car.
His heart still raced, but his face betrayed nothing. As he sat back in the driver’s seat, the clock on his dash showed ten minutes to spare—just enough time. The gates to the NASA military complex opened before him, he let out a long breath and drove through.
You’re not him, he reminded himself as he drove. You never were.
But after two decades of living as a middle-aged Asian man, every insult, every sneer, every “go back to your country” muttered under breath—it all belonged to him now. The racism, the distrust, the quiet moments where he’d been the outsider in a world of insiders—they weren’t just things that had happened to the suit of skin he wore.
They were part of him, woven into his experience.
Dr. Saku was once the "other." For twenty long years, he was the one who didn’t belong. But after all this time on this crucial assignment, the spy didn’t feel like it, anymore.
After everything he’d been though, placed in this important position, the spy felt… human.
Everything was back on track. At least for now.
Inside the main gate, to Tommy’s trained eye, the campus unfolded into a meticulously organized hive of activity on the way to his reserved parking space. Nearby, the vehicle assembly building stood tall, a cavernous structure where space shuttles were once meticulously pieced together.
Wide, paved roads connected a series of modern government buildings, their sleek, functional design reflected the high-tech nature of the work conducted within. These structures housed state-of-the-art NASA laboratories, mission control centers, and administrative offices, all equipped with the very latest technology.
Alabama’s launch pad is a historical landmark, it loomed in the distance, both imposing and inspiring. The enormous launch gantry, now a silent sentinel, still bore the marks of countless launches, a monument to the many missions that have embarked from this very ground.
Military vehicles, including Humvees and armored personnel carriers were a common sight on the campus, their presence reflected the close cooperation between NASA and the Department of Defense. Along with the constant presence of uniformed personnel, these military vehicles emphasized the dual role of the Alabama facility: a hub of scientific progress and a critical asset to national security.
He parked outside his building and made his way inside, pristine gravel crunched beneath his shoes and gave way to a smooth concrete walkway. Inside this building, minds that pushed the boundaries of space exploration came together, sharing ideas and forging the future, the Marshall Space Flight Center in Alabama stood as a fortress of human ambition, where the pursuit of knowledge and the need for security intersected.
It is a place where history and innovation coexisted, and where the next giant leap for mankind was continually being prepared. His steps activated the automated sliding doors, to his left and right, plaques and monuments dedicated to past missions and astronauts dotted the main foyer, impressive artwork on the walls served as reminders of the center's storied past and its pivotal role in the space race.
In a rush, he passed by the busy cafeteria, a hive of activity all morning, buzzing with the excited conversations of engineers, scientists, and military personnel alike, but Dr. Saku walked by them, unnoticed.
No one stopped to congratulate him on his day, or wish him good luck. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the clatter of trays provided him a brief respite from the intensity of his daily work, but no one ever invited Tommy for a cup.
Do they ever really see me? The question echoed again in his mind. He made his way past the security checkpoints and into his office.
* * * * * * * * * *
A knock at his office door made Dr. Tommy Saku jump, he spun in his chair with his heart pounding in his chest. He wasn’t used to surprises—especially not in the high-security NASA facility where every movement was tracked, every door monitored.
Just inside the doorway of his secured office stood a man, incongruous in appearance—a bike messenger, or at least that’s what he looked like. The young man, Caucasian, wore a glossy bicycle helmet that reflected the harsh fluorescent lights and an insulated leather bomber jacket with a thick wool collar, despite the sweltering Alabama heat outside.
“Dr. Saku?” the courier asked, his voice calm.
Tommy swallowed hard, his mind racing. How had this stranger gotten past security? His nerves were already frayed after the checkpoint incident earlier, and this unexpected visitor did nothing to soothe them. “I’m Saku,” he replied, his voice betraying his unease. “How did you get past security, young man?”
The courier gave a small nod, seemingly unfazed by the question. Without answering, he reached behind him. Tommy’s breath caught, his muscles tensing. Every instinct screamed that something was wrong. But before he could react, a large manila envelope was thrust into his hands.
“Package for you, Sir,” the man said pleasantly, his tone too bright for the tension hanging in the air. In one swift motion, he produced a golden clipboard and a matching gold pen, holding them out to Tommy with unnerving precision. “Sign here, please.”
Tommy’s mind was still reeling, his thoughts were tangled in confusion. His hand moved before his brain could catch up, signing the clipboard in a daze. The logo at the top caught his eye—TELEX Messaging Service. A chill crawled up his spine. He didn’t order anything from TELEX.
The courier turned the clipboard toward him, confirming the signature with a shy smile. “That’s all I need. Have a good day,” he said, and just like that, he was gone—slipping out the door so quickly the air stirred, rustling the papers on Tommy’s desk and leaving an unsettling silence in his wake.
For a long moment, Tommy just stood there, staring at the closed door, his mind spinning. The envelope felt like it was burning a hole in his hand, as if it held something far more dangerous than a simple package. On their own accord, his fingers tore it open before he could stop himself, and into his palm dropped a small portable thumbnail drive, no bigger than a spark plug.
The air in the room seemed to thicken. He didn’t need to open it to know this device was dangerous.
A loud chime from his government-issued laptop shattered the silence, making him jump in his skin once again. Someone was initiating a video call. Tommy’s hands trembled as he sat back at his desk, his nerves on edge. With a quick glance around the NASA office to make sure he was alone, he hesitantly accepted the call.
The face that filled the screen belonged to a black man wearing a worn industrial work shirt. His name tag read “Rick,” but the eyes that met Tommy’s were cold and calculating. “Check the hallway,” Rick said immediately, his voice low, urgent.
Tommy’s pulse quickened, and he glanced toward the door. The hallway was still empty. “It’s clear,” he whispered.
“Where’s Anderson?” Rick demanded, his eyes narrowing.
Tommy swallowed hard. “He’ll be here. What about my daughter?”
Rick’s face hardened. “No word on your daughter yet,” he replied flatly, as if it was an afterthought. “Do you have the portable drive?”
Tommy’s fingers brushed against the small device in his pocket, the weight of it now suffocating. “Just got it,” he said quietly. “Did they deliver their side of the payment?”
Rick leaned in closer to the webcam, his eyes glinting with barely contained frustration. “They did,” he muttered, “but they weren’t happy about it. I don’t want to get double-crossed here, Saku. But this… this will change everything.”
Tommy stayed silent, the tension mounting in his chest. The mission. It all felt so far away from what mattered to him now—his daughter, his life here. But there was no backing out. Not anymore.
Rick glanced over his shoulder, his movements jerky, paranoid. When he turned back to the screen, his voice was low and rapid. “I’ll only say this once, Saku. Death won’t be the worst consequence if you and Anderson screw this up. The Families have been around a long time. They know how to make people suffer in ways we can’t even imagine.”
Tommy’s stomach twisted. He knew all too well what the Families were capable of.
“Stick to the plan,” Rick pressed on. “Don’t do anything suspicious. We worked hard to get you both in there, so don’t blow it. The humans won’t know anything is wrong if you just keep it together.” Rick’s tone softened slightly, but the edge of danger remained. “The Family will hold up their end of the transaction. Your part will be over, and you’ll finally get to go back home. But if you screw this up… it’s not just you who’s getting pinched. It’s all of us. We’ve got too much riding on this. Finish the job, and in five years—maybe less—the entire human race is done for. It’s all in your hands.”
Tommy couldn’t breathe. Home. That word had lost its meaning long ago. The weight of the world—both worlds—pressed down on him.
“And my daughter?” he asked again, his voice barely audible.
Rick’s expression darkened, his patience wearing thin. “Enough about your human daughter,” he snapped. “Yes, they took her, but she’s just insurance. They’ll return her when the job’s done. Just remember—she’s not really your daughter.”
Tommy clenched his jaw, the familiar anger and helplessness bubbling up inside him. “Fine,” he said through gritted teeth. “We won’t fail. I’ll upload the code now.”
But before he could say another word, the screen went black. Rick was gone, leaving Tommy alone in the oppressive silence of his office. He let go of the mouse, slumped back in his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose.
He took a deep breath, the weight of the mission crushing him from all sides. There was no room for failure. Not with everything—everyone—on the line.
Dr. Tommy Saku’s fingers hovered above the keyboard, a bead of sweat tracing down his temple. He pulled up the NASA interface, his creation—the digital Trojan Horse he'd painstakingly built over the years. His heart pounded as the familiar menu loaded, and his breath hitched when the pleasant chime echoed from the laptop.
The voice of the shuttle’s artificial intelligence named Olivia filled the room.
“Welcome back, Dr. Saku. How can I assist you?” she asked him, her tone crisp, with the warmth of simulated politeness.
His throat tightened as he muttered in Japanese, “Shizukani shite ku dasai, subarashii mono,”—quiet now, great one.
As the imposter scientist, he knew this moment wasn’t just about espionage; it was the culmination of decades spent hiding in plain sight, of pretending to be a man he wasn’t. His eyes flicked to the small video feed of the Russian Soyuz spacecraft on the tarmac, bathed in the sweltering Alabama sun. The pilots, tall and fair, waved confidently to the camera, blissfully unaware of the disaster quietly ticking in the background. They were the poster boys of international cooperation, while he was the shadow behind the scenes, the destroyer in disguise.
Do I have a choice? The thought crept unbidden into his mind as his gaze lingered on the two astronauts, preparing to risk their lives for a mission that may never see the stars.
A knot twisted in his stomach as he reached into his lab coat pocket and pulled out the small thumbnail drive, the weight of the world compressed into a tiny, unassuming piece of technology. His hands shook as he plugged the small device into a USB port. The tiny drive held more than data—it held the fate of an entire species. The mission he had been assigned was finally coming to fruition, yet every fiber of his being resisted.
With a trembling finger, he clicked the mouse and initiated the upload. The bar began to crawl across the screen, but the pace was far faster than expected. His pulse quickened as the minutes ticked by, each second amplifying the tension that coiled tighter and tighter around his chest.
Then, a sound interrupted his thoughts.
“Just like old times,” said a familiar voice. “Any problems getting inside the firewall?”
Dr. Saku turned to see Dr. Murray Anderson, his partner in this deception, standing at the office door, arms crossed, his balding head reflecting the harsh office light. His face was a study in barely controlled excitement. But Saku could hear it—the anxiety, the doubt—laced underneath Anderson’s calm words.
“None,” Saku replied, his voice laced with disdain. “I created the damn firewall.” But his hands still trembled as the bar continued to load, inching toward completion.
Anderson stepped farther into the room, adjusting his glasses, trying to maintain an air of control. But there was tension between them now, palpable and heavy. “What will the code do, I wonder?” Anderson murmured, his voice low, almost as if he didn’t want to know the answer. “Think the humans will suspect anything?”
Saku shook his head, though uncertainty gnawed at him. “I don’t know,” he said, his words clipped. “And it doesn’t matter. They have my daughter. We do what we’re told, and we’re done.” His voice trembled, the weight of his words sinking in. “Our role in this pitiful little story will be over.”
Anderson leaned against the doorframe, watching him carefully. “You’re not planning on going back down below, are you?” There was a challenge in his tone.
Saku remained silent, his focus locked on the screen as the loading bar crept toward completion. He wasn’t sure if he could go back—not after everything. Not after becoming so… human.
“I’m not going back, either,” Anderson added, defiance flashing in his eyes.
Finally, the loading bar clicked to 100%. The room seemed to freeze, the weight of the moment crushing down on them both.
“That’s it?” Anderson asked, his voice laced with disbelief, tinged with something like regret.
“I guess it is,” Saku replied quietly. “The humans won’t realize anything is wrong until it’s too late. Five years, Rick said. Five years and they’re all dead.”
He pulled the small drive from his laptop with a sharp jerk and held it up, its insignificance almost mocking him. Anderson nodded silently, watching as Saku tossed the drive into the air.
Anderson caught it effortlessly, holding it between his fingers as though it was nothing more than a trivial trinket. “Five years,” Anderson repeated, his voice soft, almost mournful. “Humankind, gone.” He slipped the drive into his pocket and looked away, unable to meet Saku’s gaze. “I wouldn’t be so sure. Humans… they’re resilient,” he added, his tone almost reverent.
Saku swallowed hard, his throat dry. He had lived among them—felt their pain, their joy, their hopes. In five years, all of that would be wiped out. And for what?
“Only time will tell,” Saku said softly, closing his laptop. The gravity of the moment settled over him like a lead blanket, suffocating. “But our part is done.”
His hand hovered over the keyboard for a second longer than necessary before he finally logged out, securing the computer. He leaned back in his chair, feeling the weight of everything he’d done, everything he’d become.
They had started this mission as imposters, infiltrating NASA, but now, standing on the precipice of success, Tommy Saku felt something he hadn’t expected.
Doubt.
“I just want my daughter back,” he whispered to no one in particular.
* * * * * * * * * *
The imposters felt the weight of every second as Dr. Saku and Dr. Anderson made their way across the military compound in the suffocating Alabama heat. The buzz of insects and the hum of distant machinery mingled with the oppressive heat, wrapping them in a blanket of humidity that only added to his growing unease. The shuttle was minutes from launch, and while the world celebrated this international achievement, they knew the danger lurking beneath.
The air inside the command center was a stifling mix of tension, anticipation and burnt coffee. Every step they took toward the viewing platform felt like a death march. As the two spies passed by armed guards, Dr. Saku couldn’t shake the weight of his completed mission. The quiet murmurs of the scientists, the soft tap of keyboards, and the rhythmic beeps of machines filled the room, but to Saku, it was all a distant echo, drowned out by the pounding of his own heart.
Large, wall-mounted television screens dominated the front of the room and displayed a real-time feed from the launch pad, telemetry data, and a live video link to the Russian mission control. Smaller monitors at each workstation provided detailed data specific to the engineers and scientists who manned them. The ambient lighting in the room was dim, which allowed the participants to focus their attention on the glowing screens but also created an atmosphere of intense concentration.
In one corner of the room, a digital clock counted down to the precise moment of launch, its rhythmic ticking an ever-present reminder of the time-sensitive nature of their task. Beneath it, a large digital map showed the trajectory of the shuttle, with projected paths and all key milestones clearly marked.
They noticed engineers in crisp uniforms, each displayed their respective roles and expertise, they communicated in concise, technical jargon, confirming systems status and troubleshooting any last-minute anomalies.
The digital clock was more than a countdown to launch—it was a ticking time bomb. His eyes flicked to the large screen displaying the shuttle on the launch pad, bathed in sunlight. It stood tall and unyielding, a symbol of human ingenuity and cooperation.
To Dr. Saku, it was a loaded gun pointed directly at the world.
Their Director’s calm voice cut through the room. “Final checks, everyone. I want every system green before we proceed.” An ever-present red stress ball was in her hand for reassurance.
Linda Jameson’s official job title was Director of NASA-DARPA Integration. In this role, she served as the primary liaison between NASA and DARPA, overseeing the collaboration between the two agencies on advanced technologies for space missions. Linda was responsible for ensuring that DARPA's defense-related research and innovations—especially those involving artificial intelligence, cybersecurity, and satellite technology—were smoothly integrated into NASA's projects, particularly those with national security implications. Her title gave her authority over both civilian space exploration teams and military contractors, making her a pivotal figure in joint missions like this one, where space exploration intersected with military objectives.
As Dr. Saku’s eyes shifted to Linda and her stress ball, he couldn’t help but appraise her with a mixture of professional respect and personal wariness. Linda stood at the heart of NASA's nerve center, commanding attention with an authority few could match. Tall and lean, she wore her neatly pressed uniform like a second skin, her posture perfect, her movements efficient. She had the kind of sharp, angular features that made her appear almost hawkish, especially when her brow furrowed in concentration. Her salt-and-pepper hair was pulled back into a severe bun, giving her a no-nonsense appearance that matched her demeanor.
Linda wasn’t just a manager of people; she was a keeper of secrets, logging each one into her computer for safe keeping. As DARPA’s eyes and ears within NASA, she held classified information that even most of the room’s high-ranking military officers wouldn’t dare to access. Her calm, meticulous nature made her an ideal fit for the role, as she was someone who wouldn’t blink twice when faced with life-altering decisions.
Dr. Saku knew that Linda had to suspect nothing.
Any slip-up, any deviation from the expected, and she’d have authorities breathing down their necks in seconds. She was the gatekeeper between his world and the one he was forced to infiltrate. To the rest of the room, Linda was a rock—unshakeable, reliable, and always in control.
But to Dr. Saku, she was his ex-wife and the single greatest threat to his survival, she and their cyber security professional, Dr. Meeks.
Linda’s sharp voice, clipped and professional, broke his train of thought. "Commencing final systems check."
She moved to the central console, her long fingers deftly maneuvered through the screens of data as she logged something. Director Jameson’s presence loomed large over the control room, Dr. Saku could feel the weight of her scrutiny even when she wasn’t looking directly at him.
She was DARPA’s eyes, and today, she could become his executioner.
Her composure grated on Saku’s nerves. He envied her confidence—confidence that came from not knowing the full truth. As engineers confirmed system after system, Saku felt a tightening in his chest. His fingers itched, his thoughts raced as if searching for an escape hatch that didn’t exist.
The Russian liaison, Colonel Ivan Petrov, gave a curt nod as they took their seats. Saku returned the gesture, though his knees trembled slightly. He knew Petrov had his suspicions regarding intelligence leaks—there had been too many close calls, too many times Saku feared his cover would be blown.
But now, with his daughter’s life on the line, failure was not an option.
The President’s sudden, bombastic arrival shattered the fragile calm in the room. Saku’s eyes involuntarily narrowed as the loud man barged in, flanked by his aides and security. The President’s rumpled suit, disheveled appearance, and too-long red tie were a far cry from the polished image he projected on television.
The President of the United States ignored Dr. Saku completely, of course—just another slight in a long list of them. Saku had grown accustomed to the subtle racism, the casual dismissals. But today, with the weight of his mission pressing down on him, the President’s disregard stung sharper than usual. Perhaps it was because today might be the last day he lived as Dr. Tommy Saku.
The room grew quiet as the countdown reached T-minus 10 minutes. Every eye in the room was trained on the main display, where the shuttle’s engines began to billow steam in preparation for liftoff. The dim lighting cast the room in a glow of anxious anticipation. Every beeping machine, every click of a keyboard was amplified, like a countdown to disaster only Saku could hear.
“T-minus 10 seconds,” an automated voice announced.
The room collectively held its breath. Saku’s grip tightened around the edge of the table as the shuttle engines roared to life.
“3, 2, 1… Ignition and lift-off.”
The Russian shuttle ascended in a brilliant plume of fire and smoke, its raw power reverberated through the speakers. The success of the launch should have brought relief, but instead, a gnawing dread hollowed out Saku’s insides. He watched the shuttle climb higher and higher, a silent harbinger of what was to come.
No one clapped at the successful launch, like they did in the movies.
“Telemetry tracking nominal,” a technician reported.
Linda allowed herself a fleeting smile. “Well done, everyone.”
Saku clenched his teeth. They were celebrating, but he knew better. The real danger had only just begun. As the shuttle breached the atmosphere and continued its ascent toward the International Space Station, Saku’s mind raced through the possibilities. Any moment now, the code he’d uploaded into Olivia, the AI onboard the Soyuz, would activate. And when it did...he did not know.
The room relaxed, shoulders loosened as the immediate danger of the launch passed. The President’s obnoxious laughter filled the space as he clapped a Russian scientist on the back. Saku faked a smile, but his insides were churning.
Then, a blip on the screen. Subtle, almost imperceptible. But Saku saw it.
At the far end of the control room, their head of cybersecurity coughed loudly, Dr. Josephine Marks furrowed her brow over her large glasses. Her fingers flew over her keyboard as she scanned the network for anomalies. “Something’s not right,” she muttered under her breath, too low for most to hear.
But Saku heard. His blood ran cold.
So did Linda. “Dr. Marks?” the Director asked, she turned toward Josephine, her calm veneer cracked just slightly.
“There’s an unusual spike in data from the shuttle,” Josephine replied, but her voice grew more urgent.
A knot of panic twisted in Saku’s gut. They’re close. Too close. His heart pounded in his ears as Dr. Marks continued to type at her station, her eyes darted across her screen.
“We need to investigate this immediately,” she suggested, louder this time, drawing the attention of the entire room. “There’s something embedded in the shuttle’s AI system that shouldn’t be there.”
Saku’s palms were slick with sweat. He could feel Dr. Anderson’s eyes on him, a silent question hanging in the air between them. Had they been found out? Was it over?
The room buzzed with nervous energy now, the earlier calm shattered. Linda stepped forward, her voice sharp. “Shut it down. I want full control over that AI.”
Josephine nodded, her fingers clicked faster, but it was too late.
The blip on the screen grew, a tendril of rogue code snaking its way through the system, beyond anyone’s control. Saku could feel the noose tightening around his neck.
In that moment, the weight of his decisions crashed down on him. His daughter. His mission. The future of an entire planet hung in the balance. And for the first time since he’d begun this dark journey, Saku wasn’t sure if he had the strength to see it through.
The blip blinked once more, then disappeared. Dr. Marks sat back in her chair to regain her breath. Silence fell over the room, heavy and suffocating.
“Everything’s… green,” she whispered, but the fear in her voice betrayed her words.
For now, they were safe. But Saku knew the storm was only just beginning.
"Telemetry tracking nominal," the main technician reported from the front of the room, his voice cut through the excitement. "All systems are go."
Linda allowed herself a small smile, the first hint of emotion to break through her professional façade. "Great work, everyone,” she praised, then the smile was gone. “Let's keep monitoring and ensure a smooth journey to station."
The shuttle climbed higher into the sky, the command center continued to bustle with a focused intensity, every team member remained vigilant and ready to respond to any challenge that might arise. The fusion of human ingenuity and international cooperation was on full display, a testament to what can be achieved when the world looked to the stars.
* * * * * * * * * *
