The Return of the Manhattan

"Return of the Manhattan"

Lieutenant Commander David Ashton was only dimly aware of the beauty of the bright, sunny spring day as he leisurely walked the last few blocks toward the White House gate along Pennsylvania Avenue. He had debarked from the tram near the Capitol a couple of hours earlier and spent the time in solitude wandering aimlessly around the area, blissfully unaware of bystanders and tourists alike who stopped and stared, gawking at his tall, slim, handsome appearance in the immaculate dress blue uniform of the Space Command. Half of his mind was mentally alert keeping himself on track, ever watching for something out of place, but the other half was light years away. He kept pinching himself, thinking there must have been some kind of mistake in his orders, but he fervently hoped that was not the case. He thrived on excitement, and this was definitely different from his usual routine and could well be the beginning of a new adventure. He realized that his life was not normal in the usual sense of the word and that most earthbound people would see him in the midst of adventure like a modern day Indiana Jones even on what he now considered a routine voyage in space, but that was the reason he had joined the Space Command several years earlier. He certainly wasn’t cut out for a boring nine to five job in a typical profession. He thought he’d better quit pinching himself, or he soon would be black and blue in all the wrong places. He hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep thinking about those unusual orders since his arrival back on Earth one week earlier. As he and his family stepped off the shuttle craft taking him from his home away from home for the past several months, the Centaur II which was now in orbit over the earth, to his home port at the Norfolk Naval Air Station, he had been handed a sealed envelope by a military courier. The young ensign courier waited around only long enough to check his identification and get his signature on the transferal receipt. Inside, he found another sealed envelope with brief orders signed by the President. The orders were simple:

Lieutenant Commander David S. Ashton:

Report to the White House at 0930 hours, May 7, 2572. Do not speak with anyone concerning these orders. Do not open enclosed envelope. Give sealed envelope to guard at the White House gate.

Signed: President Hugh Gardiner

David was the youngest executive officer in Space Command rising rapidly to serve as third in command aboard the Centaur II on a mission to Mars supporting geologists in search of uranium and other rare minerals which were getting scarce on the home planet Earth. David earned his Master’s Degree in Human Resources specializing in human behavior in space, while aboard another vehicle traveling through and mapping remote planets within the solar system while working with NASA preparing astronauts for the rigors of space travel. His wife Marie, a space shuttle pilot, had just entered Astronaut training when they first met. She accompanied him on his last voyage and their daughter, Laura, a true star-child was born while they were in orbit over Mars. Marriages while traveling in space were becoming more common, although female astronaut pilots were relieved from the most strenuous duties in the starfighters if they became pregnant, and transferred to lighter duty in the shuttle spacecraft.

As he understood his orders, he couldn’t even discuss this morning’s adventure with his wife, nor even let on where he would be today.

Fortunately, Marie was back on duty shuttling to and from orbit delivering their precious cargo of uranium, and was scheduled to remain on duty until the mission was complete. As soon as the entire cargo was delivered, she too would be off with him expecting extended shore leave. She understood and supported him when he often worked on confidential matters involving other crew members, and the tables were turned when he needed to support her with her duties aboard the shuttle. She wanted some time off with her family, but David wasn’t sure that was in the cards considering his new orders.

At precisely 0930 hours, he handed the envelope to the guard and presented his Identification. The guard broke the seal on the envelope, read the instructions and reached for the telephone, speaking briefly before motioning David through the gate where another guard thoroughly searched him before directing him into the White House. He had never been inside the presidential mansion before, but from all he had read and seen on video, it didn’t look any different to him than he was sure it looked hundreds of years earlier. On the exterior, he certainly couldn't see much change except for the missing driveways he had seen on historical photographs. Normal privately owned vehicles no longer were allowed anywhere near the White House. Tourist and visitor tram stations were blocks away while the White House had a restricted underground tram station used by the President and his staff, as well as automated deliveries. The White House Tram station was internal almost like having an attached garage on a house. These of course were no longer available for the average American citizen. Private trams were a status symbol and difficult to obtain unless you were filthy rich or happened to be the president of the United States. The presidential tram replaced the Marine One helicopters years earlier and provided rapid, safe transit to any site within a 1000 mile radius of metropolitan Washington. Other trams were allowed to enter or exit the outer limits of the White House Tram station only when visitors had restricted security codes which could be used with any public tram. When anyone punched in the White House address without the codes, the tram would deliver them to the nearest public tram station. Even when visitors had the codes, after arriving at the White House Tram Station, they still had to run the security gamut to get anywhere near the presidential living area or the Oval Office. Usually, several trams were available at the station for anyone leaving the White House without many restrictions. The streets within all major cities had long ago been converted to malls and walkways, with frequent tram stations. The gate located on Pennsylvania Ave where he entered was mostly a ceremonial entrance for diplomatic visitors and other personnel without the proper credentials to enter via the Presidential tram station or persons summoned to the White House for a specific purpose, and for historical nostalgia. David could have been given the security codes for a one time visit, but since he hadn’t been given any, he figured his visit wasn’t important enough for that kind of recognition.

He couldn’t help gawking at the historic memorabilia and artwork hung on the walls and nestled in and around nooks and crannies along the corridors when he was escorted toward a small conference room where he found an old friend, Admiral Thomas White, who stood and greeted him heartily. Admiral White was a large, broad shouldered man who was military all the way, but made an exception in David's case. Before he could offer a salute, the admiral stretched out his arms and gave him a big hug, "David, it’s been a long time. How was your last voyage?” Admiral White had been David’s commander on his first voyage, and they had lots of fond memories to share.

"Great, nothing out of the ordinary, but not routine either. You surprised me, I didn’t expect to see you here. Really, I don’t know what to expect. It's good to see you sir! And I’m sure glad to see a familiar face. This is all so strange, especially since I haven’t entirely got my land legs back yet. What's going on anyway?"