Orbital

Seven Severance

I’m in yet another conference room, this time outside Orlando, Florida, where iCosmos has their main headquarters. It’s been three weeks since the…incident. I’m waiting to find out when my employer is going to let me fly again.

“What you did was…outstanding,” says Peter Kaufman, the silver-haired chairman of the board of directors for iCosmos. “I can’t imagine many people standing up and doing what you did under the circumstances you were under. Of course…if we had known…maybe things could have turned out differently.”

He means the death of Peterson and Bennet. He also means the reputation of iCosmos.

His understanding of the lie is that I had been recruited along with my deceased crew mates for a top secret mission orchestrated by the CIA and the Office of Naval Intelligence. A mission so secret, only a handful of people could know and the only way to pull it off was commandeering iCosmos vehicles.

The reality was that the only way we were able to pull this off was with the help of the man sitting opposite Kaufman, iCosmos CEO and founder, Vin Amin.

Amin is noticeably silent. He can’t let the role he played in all this get out. Already a bit of a “loose canon,” he’s nearly lost control of the company twice. In both cases Kaufman intervened and rallied together a collection of Silicon Valley billionaires to keep the enterprise afloat.

“We’re working with the government to figure out how we’ll recoup the costs for the damage done to the Unicorn capsule. It was only through an act of mercy that the Brazilians didn’t try to claim that and then sell it to the Chinese or whoever,” says Kaufman.

“There’s been some talk of no-bid contracts,” says Amin, trying to salvage the situation.

“Right.” Kaufman turns back to me. “As noble as this was, and how grateful we are that iCosmos was able to play such an important part in averting a potential disaster, we still have to do some repair to our reputation.”

“Repair?” I reply. You think they’d be proud of the fact one of their employees stopped World War III — okay, maybe I’m laying it on a bit thick, but still.

“Fifty percent of our customer base is foreign companies. They have understandable concerns about corporate espionage. The fact that we had three government operatives working inside iCosmos without our knowing is…well, something that makes them uncomfortable.”

I point to the ceiling. “You’ve got an office of FAA people right in this building.”

“Yes. But they’re supposed to be here.”

“Okay, what about, what’s her name? Mindy Gallagher over in payload compliance? We all know she’s an undercover FBI agent whose job is to get a look at anything that’s sent up by a foreign company.”

Kaufman’s jaw goes slack for a moment. While ratting out someone else isn’t my preferred strategy, I’m forbidden by threat of imprisonment from explaining to him that I was never a government operative.

“Any personnel working here in a government capacity have to be approved by a board member with an appropriate security clearance. You were not. This isn’t directed at you, but the Feds went around us.”

“There was a time constraint…from what I understand,” says Amin, making his best feeble attempt to point out the situation.

Poor Amin. I can see that this is killing him. He’s a flake and an oddball, but he’s also a straight shooter. He may exaggerate his version of reality to get a point across, but he’s not a liar. Watching me have to cover for him is torturing him.

“My point is, Dixon, that we can’t have someone here serving two masters,” Kaufman replies.

“Except the FAA folks, Gallagher and whoever it is that sold our thruster control system and spacesuit tech to the Chinese,” I shoot back and hit my foot.

If I’m trying to fly again, my mouth just screwed me over.

“We can’t retain anyone working for an outside agency without approval from the board or a court order. This was in your contract with iCosmos.”

Damn. This isn’t about letting me go up in space again. This is about firing me.

I think through the terms of what Flavor and the other spooks told me. It’s a weird position to be in where telling the truth will send you to Federal prison.

I’m sure technically I could have a lawyer fight the government on my behalf and remove any gag orders. But there’s the chance I’ll lose and have them as enemies. You don’t want enemies that have black sites for people they disagree with. Been there, done that.

“I’m no longer working as a special operative,” I reply. “My dedication is and always has been the furthering of the iCosmos mission. There were extenuating circumstances.”

“Circumstances that would have damaged the US/iCosmos station and possibly grounded us forever,” says Vin, trying to defend me.

Kaufman nods. “I understand that. But our policy is there for a reason. If your intelligence agency employers put in a formal request, we would do our best to abide by it.”

I choose my words carefully. “I don’t have any intelligence agency employers. I am not currently a government employee, consultant or anything.”

“This may be correct, but you signed a document to that effect when you came to work for us. That document also states that you have to notify us of any change in that status through appropriate channels.”

“So that’s it? I’m done here?”

“It’s policy, David. Neither Vin nor I have the authority to say otherwise.”

Yeah, and all he has to do is put his finger on the speakerphone by his elbow and call four other board members and it’s changed.

But he won’t.

Kaufman isn’t a bad guy, from what I know. His job is to present authority and accountability. If iCosmos looks like a puppet for the CIA or whomever, it affects their mission. This isn’t a company about rockets. It’s dedicated to sending humanity to the stars. Not just Americans. Everyone.

“So you need me to resign?”

“Yes…that would be easiest.”

The alternative is to quietly let me go and hope the press thinks that it was all part of the plan.

“Okay.”

“We’ll give you our standard severance package, even though you’re not entitled to it…technically. I’m not sure what compensation your government employers provide you, but between them that should give you enough time to find employment elsewhere.”

Sure it will. Maybe I’ll take an imaginary cruise with my imaginary government check while I assess the job offers I’m going to get after being let go by the biggest name in space because they didn’t trust me.

Stop it, David. Bennet and his son both died. His grandchildren lost a dad and Peterson’s fiancé has to send out cancellation notices for a wedding.

Remember, you’re the lucky one.