Elias stood on the flight deck of the landing shuttle, fidgeting nervously. What was he doing here? This mission sounded extremely dangerous. And the crew that had been selected, what on Ganymede was they thinking? He had expected to be surrounded by trained professionals. Not a ragtag assembly of civilians. It was too much. Elias pulled a cell phone out of his pocket and dialed urgently. After a few moments a tired voice buzzed in his ears.
“Elias...what can I do for you?"
"Oh I'm sorry Spieth," Elias said petulantly. "Did I wake you?"
"As a matter of fact, I was in the middle of my siesta. But don't worry about it, I'm sure you have a very good reason for calling me. Shouldn't you be on your way to Dalia by now?"
"That is exactly what I am calling about Spieth! Is it too late? I mean, is it too late, you know, to back out?"
Spieth snorted.
“Sure, so long as you don’t mind watching your career go into its death spiral."
Elias groaned.
"This is insanity. The people here are hopeless. All civilians! There is even a gods damn baby on board! A baby, Spieth!"
"Okay Elias, you can pull out of this. But when you get back, don't expect me to explain to the press why a one year old has bigger balls than you. I'm a publicist, not a miracle worker...that's your job. But not even a miracle would navigate us out of that PR nightmare. I'm telling you, if you leave that ship, say goodbye to the high life and hello again to the shipyards on Europa."
"Gods, I can’t believe it has come to this. Having to risk my life to preserve my career."
Spieth let out an impatient sigh.
“Calm down! Look, all that is going to happen is you are going to visit a space station which had a maintenance failure. You’ll snoop around for a bit, come home, and be treated like a hero...then we will make a killing with the new book."
Elias closed his eyes. The mission couldn't end soon enough.
“And hey," Spieth continued. "When in doubt, just think, the gods are watching over you."
Elias detected sarcasm in Spieth's voice. The publicist had never believed his accounts of his godly heritage. He was a cynical business man.
“I don't appreciate that tone," Elias said "But I guess you are right."
“I am right. Now, go be a hero doctor. You'll be back here sipping vodka and banging coeds in no time at all.”
Elias put the phone down, far from feeling better about his situation. And he would soon be past the point of no return. He had a strong compulsion to storm into the cockpit and demand they turn back. It took every fiber of his being to fight against acting out on it. He reached a trembling hand into his pocket, and pulled out a Callistan cigar. He had already chastised the other smokers on board for lighting up on the flight deck. And rightly so, he felt. But now he needed something to calm his nerves, so he could think straight. He headed for the smoking room.