Andrea Lepri - The Last Christmas On Earth

"Houston ... Houston ... here is Atlantis."

"Atlantis, we are in visual contact and we hear you loud and clear. How's it going?" Said Connor, the communications clerk.

"All according to schedule. The instrumentation on board is fully functional and the control system has just returned my manual command."

"What about fuel?"

"There is enough to make a nice ride."

"Good, but be sure not to delay because in Florida we are waiting for you with open arms. Out."

"Houston, wait ... Lieutenant Garrett has a problem," Major Salas, the shuttle pilot, and commander announced in a serious voice. Hearing those words, the ground Coordinator jumped on his chair. His name was Rupert Lee, but everyone called him simply 'the Chief".

"What kind of problem?" He asked worried as he ran his hand through his reddish curls.

"He claims to be reassured that he will find a couple of roast chickens waiting for him as we land," the Major informed him, and for a moment Lee was tempted to send him to hell for the fright he had given him.

"Tell Lieutenant Garrett that he is getting older, last time he asked me to get him a couple of girls," he replied instead, smiling with a sigh of relief; his collaborators giggled.

"Yeah, I told him exactly the same thing, but he still claims he would be able to have them both in less than four minutes, so we bet a few dollars. You know how it is, Christmas holidays are approaching and some extra money in the wallet to make gifts is always be needed... couldn't you talk to those of J.F.K. to see if we can get those chickens?"

"I don't know, over there it's nine in the morning and the buffet has already been set up ... anyway, it's fine, I promise I'll see what I can do."

"Thanks, boss. Speaking of Christmas, where will you spend it?"

"Well, if aside to roast chickens you don't create other problems, I might even be able to finish all the paperwork in time and go back to Richmond to pass it with my wife and my son."

"Well, then I'll try to do my best with this old grinder. See you later by videoconference when we are on the runway, close."

"Nick, can you think about chickens?" We have little time and you are a true magician in these things, "Lee suggested to one of his assistants.

"All right, Chief," he answered, picking up the phone.

"Even this time America can be proud of us," the Chief declared finally relaxed. He untied the knot of the scarf with stars and stripes that he wore around his neck like a cowboy and used it to dab his cheeks and chin. Then he bent down to look for something under the desk.

"So it's serious!" Exclaimed Truman, the Radar Man, seeing that the Chief had taken from under the table a Moet et Chandon Magnum. Lee began to arrange the crystal flutes on his desk reproducing the shape of the shuttle.

"Every time I sweat like a sauna, tonight I'll have to drink five or six beers to replenish all the mineral salts I've lost," Rupert Lee announced, wiping his neck again with a scarf. "Who's coming to keep me company?"

All those present raised their hands in participation except the Communications Officer, who remained with his eyes glued to the screen as if he had not even heard.

"Hey Connor, what's wrong with you? Have you become teetotaler or deaf?" "Chief ... it would seem that something is not going well."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know," Connor explained, "the video signal comes and goes, it would seem that the shuttle is like ... like fading."

"Fading? What the hell does it mean "the Shuttle is fading" ?" Rupert asked running to sit beside him.

"Wait a minute ... here, can you see?" Said Connor clicking on the mouse zooming the image.

"What the hell, you're right!" Rupert admitted. "What is it?" He then asked, putting his hand back into his red curls to scratch his head perplexedly.

"On the spot, I don't know, it could be a defect in the cameras or a magnetic storm or a train of electromagnetic charge that they carried from the ionized belt. In any case, there is something that disturbs the transmission. What do you think about it?"

"I have no idea, you are the expert! Can't you be more precise?"

"I don't know what to say, the monitor has been doing this since Atlantis entered the Triangle area," Connor informed him. "It looked up, lost speed, and then ..."

"Don't say bullshit! Won't you believe those silly superstitions on the Bermuda Triangle?"

"Of course not, Chief, but I would still try to contact them to see if they are okay."

"All right," Rupert said, wiping his neck again with nervous gestures, then he sighed and turned on the microphone.

"Houston to Atlantis ... do you receive us?"

"Strong and clear, Chief ... are there any problems?" Major Salas answered promptly.

"No, no problem, it was just to inform you we are working on those chickens," Rupert Lee lied to not unnecessarily alarm the Shuttle crew. "We look forward to meeting you, make yourself beautiful for being on TV. Out."

The chief closed the call and dedicated a murderous look to Connor because he had made him worry for nothing.

"Houston," the radio croaked right after.

"We are here, what's going on?"

"Boss, what's the weather like?"

"Excellent, why ?"

"Because last time we heard, the weather was a fairy tale here too, but within ten minutes it has changed and now is rapidly darkening. It seems as if a storm was brewing, moreover all the instruments on board have started acting up," explained Major Salas. Rupert's collaborators exchanged odd looks because the last conversation between the Atlantis and the control room had taken place no more than fifteen seconds before and not ten minutes as the commander of the shuttle had just said.

"What is this, another one of your jokes?" Lee growled into the microphone and began to warm up. "We haven't seen such a clean sky for years," he resumed, "and then ..."

"Chief, look at the monitors," Connor interrupted softly.

"What's up?"

"The sky is very clear, but the image of the shuttle is continuing to lose consistency. If you look at it well, now it seems to be wrapped in a green mist ... actually, it would seem that it has been enveloped by some invisible tentacles."

"Connor, do you want to finish saying these bullshit?"

"Chief, here is Atlantis," Major Salas called nervously, "we need help. Here it started to rain badly and the instruments do not ... ggzz ... ffffrrrr we've ... lost ... ggzz ... tion. Oh God! Wha ... ... hell? ... Help !!!" shouted the Major as the image on the monitors became more and more evanescent.

"Enough with jokes! Atlantis, do you understand me? I've said enough with jokes, I've had enough! Salas, answer me! ... Salas! ..." shouted Rupert one last time into the microphone with all the breath he had, then he took off his headphones and threw them away pissed off. He let himself fall back on the chair and stared at the screen in complete disbelief. His Shuttle, an entire Shuttle, had literally vanished before his eyes and he couldn't believe it. A cold silence had fallen in the Control Room, and everyone was wondering what the external relations Officer would have told the crew members' relatives. Rupert roused himself almost instantly, his quick reflexes were one of the aspects of his character that made him a good leader.

"Nick, contact immediately the Crisis Unit and make sure the research starts immediately, within ten minutes I want at least six planes to patrol the area! If the Atlantis has impacted the water the wreckage and the oil and fuel spots will be seen miles away, if the crew has catapulted out and there are survivors we can still save them. David, contact the Navy and ask for the nearest ship to be sent immediately," he ordered. "They can't have disappeared like that, and above all, they can't have gone far. We have their path and their last coordinates, we have to find them at any cost, even if this means moving the entire US army!" He concluded, banging a gritty fist on his desk.