Bandon said, “You ready to go, Dee?”
He always called me Dee. I liked it. Bandon was a good choice for the Nautilaus’ captain. He’d grown up around ships, had learned to fly, flew A-10s in the Air Force and then F-22s. A Stanford graduate, he was as all kind of amazing as I was below average.
I’d met him through his wife. She’d come to work for me as my personal assistant after she’d divorced Bandon and moved back to the Bay Area where I lived and worked. Now they were back together as crewmembers on my air ship.
“I am, Bee,” I said.
Bandon stood beside me. “I take it you haven’t seen nor heard from Salazin.”
I put my cell phone down. I was going to call Salazin again, but why?
“He said he wouldn’t be here,” Bandon said.
“He also said that we were to launch at ten.”
“And you know, it’s ten ten now.”
“Salazin also said that if we launched too late, then we might as well not launch.”
I said nothing.
“Everything is green.”
“It’s your call, chief.”
Salazin had said all those things that Bandon said, but he’d never said why it was so important for us to launch at ten. He was an amazingly accurate and prescient forecaster, and the force behind the Nautilaus’ construction.
That’s why I believed he was an alien.
“Come on, chief. You’ve trusted him this far. He’s never been wrong. Why stop trusting him now?”