Her ship was moving at around 400,000 miles per hour or 200 times the speed of a gun bullet. Since speed is stored energy, they needed a solid eight hours of deceleration to shave most of that power down and hope to land. To land, her ship also needed to flip around twice, once now and then just before atmospheric entry, to rotate back to forward-pointing orientation. One of the lasers was sabotaged, the other was only partially operational, and Marilyn didn't seem to think there was a problem.

Judy wasn’t a man unable to trust Marilyn simply because of who she was. She knew the artificial creature was wise beyond her years. Given these circumstances, she now was relatively confident. The Captain had an ace up her sleeve. The guys at mars control, in charge of the deceleration phases, were convinced that she was reckless and likely to ignore their suggestion. Real-life captains of space missions were not television starship captains free to improvise in difficult situations. She held lives in her hands and had precise orders. In this case, though, they didn't originate from Control.

The hint Marilyn was hinting at was Emilio Wamarez Sanchez, the twice winner of this competition and decade-long President of the United Nations. The famous man insisted on meeting her in person at the time of the launch. Pretexting a sendoff ceremony, he handed her in secrecy a hand written book with pages. “Wrote this three months ago watching the fumes going up. Something is coming, better be ready,” he told her before hugging her for the cameras.

The President's orders were simple. Appear forceful and stubborn, take a moment to regroup and go to his little secret notebook. The President had a gift for anticipation, he was a fortune teller. He knew, well before anyone else, what road to travel in the game and in real life. Months ago, from a diner in Berlin, the man had expected several possible contingencies she might run into and he had hand written solutions to a handful of possible problems; she just did not know his solution to it. Yet.

The next part of the genius' plan would be equally difficult to implement. There were three people in the cockpit, all of them nervous, and she needed them to leave her alone. The protocol was clear: under no circumstances was the front cabin to house a single officer. There was a weapon at her disposal in case someone refused to collaborate, but that really was her last resort.

"Wang, we may need that onboard modulation, go prepare yourself. Take your time, this has to work the first time. If we send this ship spinning, there may be no time to stabilize and land. Don't start or do anything without my green light. Prove that guy on mars wrong."

"Yes, ma'am." He unbuckled himself, pushed off, and floated out of the cabin. Two others remained in their seats, the communication officer, and the second pilot.

"Guys, here is what I need you to do. Jeff, go warn the crew of what is going on. We are implementing the emergency protocol. I want no exceptions. Whatever happens, the lawyers are going to have a field day here. Any Electoral contestant who gets kicked out of the next round will sue us. Everything must be by the book." Jeff agreed and left. One remained.

"Paul, we may need to warm the nuclear thrusters. I fear sabotage. I want you to go inspect any place where a person might have gained access to any critical system. Be careful, given in mind that this may be someone onboard. See if you can spot anything that could have been tampered with."

Jeff hesitated. "I can't leave you alone in here. That's a violation of protocol, no?"

"Correct." She pulled out a necklace from under her shirt. A key dangled from it. "Unless a person outside has the key to open that door if I fall ill." She took the chain off her neck and handed Jeff the key. It floated until he slipped it around his own neck and hid it under his shirt. He pushed off and left closing the door behind him.

She was alone. She looked at her watch; it read 21:24. What she would do next had to be time coded. Judy waited fifteen seconds until the watch turned to 21:25, then reached over and twisted one of the cockpit cameras. She pushed a handful of buttons and turned the knobs on the panels in front of her. It was ironic how many dials were still mostly manual, even in these latest ships. It seemed like nothing was more reliable than good-old analog switching. As the clock turned to 21:26, she reached between her shoes and grabbed a small handle. She twisted it, and a latch clicked open, releasing a package.

"Earth, code red." She said over the intercom. She waited for what seemed like an eternity. Since she was nineteen light-seconds from Earth, the wait of forty-one seconds was not a big deal. As she waited, she pulled a small hand-size ring binder from a red envelope in the package. She broke the seal and opened the binder. Everything in it was typed with an old typewriter, except two or three handwritten pages.

Finally, four words came on the audio link. "One-thirty-three, confirm."

"One-thirty-three confirmed." The link closed. She started flipping through the pages. Each had a large red number stamped at its top. She turned until she reached the page numbered 133. It was one of the few handwritten ones. She knew the handwriting, it was the President's. She quickly ripped page 133 from the binder, replaced it in the envelope below her seat, and closed the hatch in case anyone returned.

This was it, she told herself.

She took a deep breath.

The voice in the intercom returned and said, "Timing adherence to instructions will allow us to monitor your compliance with instructions. Slow down to suggest onboard interference. Accelerate ship to suggest unknown event. Your top is in seventeen minutes, 21:45 on your watch. Good luck." This was serious.

President Emilio feared Marilyn. He insisted on keeping many key protocols in hardcopy manuscript to avoid manipulation from the digital goddess.

She could not get herself to read the sheet. Her hands were shaking. The clock was ticking. The Earth Control Center needed a discreet way to give the captain instructions without using any of the normal communication channels, away from the all-powerful Martian resident Marilyn Monroe. Whoever was powerful enough to interfere with the ship would likely have informants, moles, or other means of spying. The instructions on this page overrode anything else. Some on Earth did not trust Marilyn and wanted a non-digital way of communication.

A suggestion by the Mars Control that the ship use auxiliary thrusters was one of the red conditions that immediately set in motion the opening of the hatch. The death of a passenger to a strange illness was not one of these conditions. Judy was on the fence as to the death. Now that Laurent had come down with a similar problem, she was unconvinced it was medical in origin.

Her instructions at the moment were on page 133, and if the paper read to self-destruct the ship, she had to comply. Most sets of instructions were timed, as these were. She calmed herself. Judy looked at her watch, and it read 21:29. She still had sixteen minutes. Finally, she read the page. Amazing. She loved the President. She could barely keep a straight face. She tensed the muscles in her face to hide any real emotions.

A voice came from the intercom, "Captain, this is Wang. In position, this will take some time."

"Continue," replied the Captain, as she kept reading.

Whoever was behind this incident down on Mars had met his or her match. President Emilio was a brilliant man, this was further evidence of it. She knew she was working for the good guys here. Her watch reminded her she had only fifteen minutes left. She opened the main intercom to the passenger cabins and tried not to sound like she was reading from the page.

"This is your Captain speaking. I am asking for a moment of attention from everyone." Jeff looked up. He was the one in charge of informing the crew, yet his Captain was on the intercom with news. "We are facing unique circumstances, and the law requires us to take some important safety measures for your protection. The law also requires us to inform our passengers."

The cabin fell silent. "You must lock yourselves in your seats as instructed by the crew where you will remain until further instructions. We will strictly enforce this obligation. Directive UN 1-203(b) provides that everyone must stay seated, with no exceptions. You will pee on yourselves before you get up, understood? Instead of wasting valuable time explaining the situation, we have a CNN journalist on board. Every person with a valid international journalist card is given free access to the ship and cockpit to document the situation. Just don't get in the way. For the passengers, please open the monitors ahead of you so everyone can follow the situation from your seats." The Captain had to insert the right name in the next portion as she read it. "Milly, only the Light Drive room is off-limits. My co-pilot is in there. Jeff, I need you up here!"

The Captain was barking orders. The protocol was somewhat reassuring. The screens lit up with the CNN feed from within the ship. Milly, the CNN journalist sitting next to Sophie, knew this trip would be historic. She had incorrectly assumed the action would start once she arrived on mars. Next to her, the young girl was deep in her dream world. There had already been a casualty, and now the ship was experiencing severe technical difficulties. Her instructions were to befriend Sophie on the way to the red planet. She knew that part had failed. Milly got up and drew her press badge. The girl remained sound asleep as the larger woman unclipped from her seat. With a flicker, she released two little electronic flying cameras. These looked like flies.

Her broadcast to two billion people began.

"Thank you, Suzy, John." The journalist was addressing the desk anchors down on Earth. "I am here live on the A2070 deep in space, hours away from mars." The woman was good at what she did. She was working off a long delay. "I want to salute our hundreds of viewers on mars, the few on the moon and a special hello to Ron and Marcy in the probe to Saturn. They are getting to their destination in a month, so we know they are watching." She blew a kiss in the direction of one of the floating cameras.

Every screen in the ship and down on earth went to a ‘live’ broadcast the journalist's feed. "To my left, Sophie Lapierre, the planet's sweetheart; soundly asleep as her father struggles in a stable condition in the infirmary. He is fighting an uncertain brain condition, one that may or may not be related to space travel. Next to him in the infirmary lies the first of what is sure to be numerous casualties of this deadly adventure." The concept of professional and unbiased journalism was long gone. Media was sessional sprinkled with facts. The media was supposed to be given some access to some situations, but this level of cooperation was unprecedented. Milly would take advantage of the situation.

She slowly floated to the cockpit area. Jeff, the co-pilot, was back in his seat. Judy was standing up and opened the door to the journalist and her cameras. "Several hours ago," she spoke, "during preliminary tests, the ship was sent into a tailspin. It took the crew almost an hour to stabilize this fragile tube moving toward mars at speeds never travelled by men." She pointed her index finger in the captain's face. "Captain Arrigoni, what is going on?"

Judy knew better than improvise. She had to stick to the text on page 133. It was folded and in her pocket but she had a great memory. "Well . . . we have just been informed that there is trouble with the satellites in orbit of Mars, and at this time we are keeping our options open. We may have to warm up the auxiliary nuclear thrusters to stop. As you know, if the laser does not get online soon, we will simply decelerate using this reliable old technology."

"The lasers don't work, is that even possible in 2072, with Marilyn Monroe in charge and taking over every chip in every phone?"

"Obviously." The journalist knew this was riveting live television. The follow-up question was obvious, but the captain turned, looked at her watch, and said to her crew, "Guys, get everything ready for the procedure. We begin deceleration in eleven minutes if the laser kicks in. Get the crew to secure everyone in their seats. This will be bumpy. Make sure Sophie is secured."

"You just said the laser does not work. What is wrong with it?" asked the journalist.

"I have little time for questions. What we know is that the modulator on it does not work. We think we are going to modulate on our end. I have to go. Follow me if you want, Wang has an idea." She knew the journalist would. The Captain pushed herself using both hands out of her seat and using the frame of the cabin out into the main Cabot to the back. She zoomed to the back of the ship to meet Wang working in the thruster engine room.

The live news feed served as a secondary endorphin system to Milly. Her face was lit up. She was standing between the rows of passengers who couldn't decide whether to look directly at her or watch the large screens. The CNN desk back on earth was buzzing with information, experts, and tickers.

Earth took the feed. "Thank you, Milly. Before we get back on the ship, we have a Light Drive expert who will tell us what seems to be the problem." An older balding gentleman appeared. "Professor Sandburg invented the drive. We have little time, sir. What is going on?"

"This is . . . ." He searched for the right words under the circumstances. "This is very unfortunate."

"Is the engine broken? Can the engineer Wang fix the problem from the ship?"

"Not really. If they try to modulate from that ship, the hull will snap into pieces like wood."

There was an animation of the ship snapping in two. The passengers in the ship were dead silent and pale.

"What’s modulation? Please explain."

"Imagine you are on an aircraft carrier and you are trying to decelerate a plane by throwing water at it, with one difference: the plane is moving at Mach 3 in your direction. That water will crush the plane at any opportunity. The laser on mars acts like a water hose shot at the tip of the ship to slow it down. The modulator regulates the force seen from the ship. If they have no modulation, how ever precise is the water, it’s initial impact will crush the ship. it's like standing in the middle of the street and having a fire hose opened inches from your face." Sandburg was not mincing his words.

Captain Judy arrived in the Light Drive room where Wang was working. She knocked, opened the door, and locked it behind her to prevent the journalist from getting inside. Wang was sweating, a rare sight for the Asian. He was floating near the end of the room, and pearls of sweat were buzzing around his face like little glass balls.

The Light Drive looked like an early internet server attached to large metal structural beams. He knew the support structure was made of titanium with reinforced Kevlar. The room was cramped. Around Wang were several glass plates stolen from microwave doors in the back kitchen. He also had paper and tools. Loose screws were flying around. The floating debris was not proper, but under the circumstances, Wang could not be faulted.

"Wang, can you do this?" asked Judy, barely holding back a smile. She would let him sweat a bit more.

"I hope so . . . ." He looked up and saw her grin.

"You know if you fail, this ship will be crushed, and we will all die."

"I know." A screen in the back was playing CNN. He had just heard Sandburg's predictions, and his lack of faith was not helping the engineer. "Geez . . . you on my side? You want me to screw up?"

"What's that black panel down there, below your hand?"

"It's locked. I don't know. Says you need a code on this numerical pad."

"Type this." She opened the sheet from her pocket and read, "098241."

He typed the code, and he heard a loud click. A small door opened, revealing a keyboard. Wang wondered what this was. Judy continued to read from the page. "Now type 233-REG." He complied. A voice sounded in the room.

-- Light Regulator Engaged. Modulation range one million Lux. --

Wang could not believe his ears. They were saved! There was already a built-in modulator on the drive. If he were not extremely happy, he would have slapped her. She looked at her watch: 21:37. They had eight minutes. She opened the intercom to the cockpit. "Wang is ready. He will try to modulate. Tell mars Control we will be ready to initiate laser connection and deceleration at 21:45 precisely, on schedule," she added as if to avoid confusion.

"What the hell?" he asked before she shut off the intercom.

"Wang, I am giving you a direct order, this must stay between us,” she said in a low voice pointing to the closed door behind which a journalist floated with her cameras ready to report. “These are the personally delivered hand-written presidential instructions I got moments before we left," she waved the sheet and showed the handwriting. "President Sanchez, God bless him, has anticipated this situation along with a slew of other ones. He had this modulator built in. We need us to keep the existence of the modulator secret and pretend that you saved the ship. I guess Emilio does not want whoever did this to know we're onto them. Makes sense to me. We must use the media to our advantage. You need to sit tight back here, think about your solution and pretend like it will work and you will be saving the ship with it. Get a story ready for Milly. You are about to save these passengers. That Sandburg guy will be convincing at making you sound like a buffoon. Walk out in half an hour, and put on a show."

"Really? I need to pretend like my stupid plan will work?"

"Yes. I will take lying any day over using your solution, no insult intended. Seems like we have to play hero for national security purposes. I don’t lie lying but there may be other plot attempts. The man is our President. Get it?"

Wang was taken aback, but he nodded.

"The journalist is outside the door. Says here the drive will simulate a couple of bumps to add drama to this. Hang on tight back here."

"Is Electoral involved?"

"Don't know and don't care at this point." Her watch now read 21:40. "This is way above our pay grades. Enjoy the ride, tie yourself down, and once we're done, give the acting performance of your life."

Wang was puzzled. "Is that President Sanchez?"

She showed him the handwritten paper, pointed to the last line “Yes Wang, I wrote this,” read the last line.

It was now 21:41.

"Good luck." Judy opened the door, passed Milly and pushed out the frame like a underwater diver pushes in a cavern. She floated to the front pilot cockpit as Wang hurried to shut the door. The journalist was standing in the cockpit. Everyone in the ship was under the impression that their lives were going to end soon and a weird feat of engineering was going to be attempted.

Judy said to the journalist, "This is in Wang's hands now."

What happened next was straight out of the best science fiction stories. Captain Arrigoni began the long deceleration procedure. A cloud of smoke was released in space by the ship to help visualize the laser from mars. Even the most stable satellite at a quarter of a million miles wobbled in the cloud. A small portion of the light reflected on the smoke. At Judy's request, the massive blue laser beam hit the cloud.

A large curved satellite dish slid out of the back of the ship and unfolded in space. The dish was over two thousand feet wide and reflected the light to a middle reflector plate at its center. Light, once in the reflector, bounced on several prisms until it hit the heart of the Light Drive. Ironically every science fiction ship had a light drive suggesting speeds of the speed of photons in the void of space. This Light Drive was slow in comparison and was simply pushed by light.

"Mars, we are going to turn on the plate."

"Captain, we ask you to reconsider. The nuclear engines are sure to work."

"Mars, this is my ship, and these people are in my hands. We will land. Wang, are you ready?"

The engineer was still in shock. "As ready as I will ever get," he said with a shaky voice. The journalist helped make the experience memorable.

There was a countdown, and the center plate of the drive was energized. Deep in the Purple, a new rift opened in the dead of space.

On cue in this world, there was a loud bang. It was followed by structural noises and shaking. Only Sophie remained sound asleep through the stressful play. Little puffs from outgassing stabilizers began pulsing to the left and right. The flow of blue light began to decelerate the ship. Under normal circumstances, this would have been only minor turbulence. Wang was the only unstrapped passenger on the ship. He was floating in a room filled with sharp edges, including panels of glass.

There was a heavy shake. A panel slipped out of the Velcro holders and broke into multiple pieces against the black titanium frame. He was unable to catch all the shards, and as he turned his head, with the deceleration one floated into his left eye. As if stung, his reaction was instinctive, it was the worst one possible, he slapped his own eye pushing the shard in. The deceleration helped him collect the other pieces glued to the vertical door behind him. He let out a loud screen of pain.This hurt. If the President wanted a performance, this would add to it.

The ship began to slow down. On the screens, the speed dial rolled down as everyone felt the return of light gravity pulling them in their seats.

"This is Judy. How are things back there, Wang?" she said cameras filming her live.

"I need the doctor. Hurt myself with glass."

She pushed a button, "Doctor, go help Wang." Another push later, Judy said to Wang, "Susie is on her way. You are on overtime pay now until we land. You shit appears to have worked. Nothing melting?"

"Make it double pay," the voice sounded for the cameras. The screen showed his face and a bloody tear coming around his fingers. This was bad. “Wang,” echoed Judy. "I promise, double pay." The passengers on the ship applauded as if on cue.

The passengers could not help but applaud Wang as he moved to the infirmary.

As the passengers, Judy watched the entire audience. To her right, the young girl was sleeping to the vacated seat of the journalist. As she dreamt, there was some strange invisible energy around here. It was pulsating as her eyes moved below her closed eyelids. In a matter of seconds, it was gone. Judy did not need to alarm anyone.