Bleaker

and I know, every expert is saying those private ships aren’t built to withstand the Androski.”
“This one may,” Waites said.
“You mean to tell me the genius who could keep the world alive, one of the smartest men on the planet, will float out into space on a private ship that will more than likely crumble in the wormhole.”
“We hope not. Just wanted to let you know. We’re gonna keep trying though,” Waites said. “We will find him and talk to him.”
“I can’t blame you. But this shouldn’t be a situation. Tucker Freeman should have been a given.” He pushed the folder back to Waites.
It was frustrating. Quinn hoped they would be able to convince Tucker to join Genesis. If not, he could only hope that all would go well and he’d meet up with Tucker on the new planet.

EIGHT
Siberia
There was an old saying, ‘If you want something done right, you do it yourself.’
It was one carried through generations, and one Quinn subscribed to.
When the location of Tucker Freeman was discovered and they realized it was out of range of normal communications, Quinn didn’t trust any official from NASA to convince Tucker to join Genesis. He had to be the one. He was commander of the mission, and he hoped that when Tucker met him, he not only would be impressed at the efforts made but accepting of the apology for the error.
Of course, Quinn had no idea what exactly traveling to Siberia entailed.
It took days and a recent rash of hurricanes didn’t help. He was glad he dressed appropriately. In his lifetime, Siberia was always cold. Not in a perpetual state of spring like it was now.
He had never met Tucker Freeman. The only pictures he’d seen of the guy were when he was young and accepting awards. All dressed up in a suit that looked a little big.
Quinn knew Tucker was a man that came from modest means. He had heard stories about him, how he looked like the kind of country boy one would see wearing a backwards baseball cap, faded Levi jeans, a rock and roll tee-shirt from decades earlier, driving to the race car track and spitting chew into an empty beer bottle.
Quinn always thought that was an exaggeration until he arrived at the secret Siberian base. He was greeted by a man named Marshman who led him to a hanger. Marshman pointed to a solar buggy. The man behind the wheel was Asian and wearing what looked like an astronaut jumpsuit. Leaning over the front end of the buggy, wearing jeans and a tee-shirt, was the man Quinn assumed was Tucker.
He was everything everyone described with the exception of the beer bottle spittoon.
“Try it now,” the man with the thick country accent told the driver.
The driver started the buggy. “You did it. How is that possible when I’m the mechanical genius?”
“You didn’t design this. It was too simple. Got a wire loose, that’s all.”
“He,” Marshman said, “is Tucker and the man you’re looking for.”
“Fixing solar buggies?” Quinn asked.
“Everyone is hands on here,” Marshman said. “We don’t have crews to change a bolt or screw in a lightbulb.”
“I see that. So, I assume people aren’t on vacation.”
“Hardly.” He led Quinn closer and called out, “Tucker, you have a visitor.”
“I have a visitor in a top-secret facility way up in the middle of yonder?” Tucker looked over. “Holy Cow. I’ll be. Look, Sam, it’s Commander Joshua Quinn of the Genesis Project.”
“Get the hell out of here,” Sam replied.
“No joke. I know them all by sight.” Tucker wiped off his hands, stuffed the towel in the back pocket of his jeans and walked hand extended to Quinn. “Sir, how are you?”
“Mr. Freeman, it is an honor to meet you,” Quinn said.
“Please, call me Tucker. The honor’s mine. Wow. You came all the way here…Aren’t you supposed to be training to go in a couple weeks?”
“I’ve been training for years,” Quinn replied. “This is part of my mission.”
“I don’t understand,” Tucker said.
“Is there somewhere we can sit down and talk?” Quinn asked.
“Sure,” Tucker answered.
Sam interjected, “Is it something that’s confidential, because I’m curious as to why you came all the way up here from Paradise, West Virginia, and if I wait to hear from Tucker, I’m sure I’ll get the short commercial version.”
“It’s up to Tucker,” Quinn said.
“Well, considering I haven’t a clue what you want, Sam can come. So can Mr. Marshman if he wants.”
Marshman held up his hand. “I don’t need to be there. I already know what he’s here for.”
“Oh, okay, well,” Tucker said. “Sam and I will join you. Since this is a sit-down talk, let’s go to the dining hall. I’m hungry, I can go for peanut butter sandwich. Sam?”
“I’ll pass on the peanut butter and jam sandwich,” Sam said. “I’ll grab something else.”
Tucker laughed. “Jam? Not jam. Jelly. Has to be jelly.”
“What’s the difference?”
“Oh, and they call me uncultured country.” Tucker shook his head with a smile and led the way.
Instantly, Quinn liked him. With Tucker’s brains and personality he just couldn’t figure out why he was rejected in the first place.
Tucker wasn’t joking about the peanut butter and jelly sandwich. The perfectly crafted sandwich, one he made himself, sat on a plate cut diagonally. Perched to the right of the plate was a tall glass of milk.
“You sure I can’t make you one?” Tucker asked.
Quinn waved his hand. “Maybe later.”
He took a drink of his milk and placed the glass down with a post-drink refreshing exhale. “Man, that’s good. Still trying to figure out a way to get a cow on the ship.”
Quinn laughed.
Sam shook his head. “He’s not joking.”
“Maybe a calf,” Tucker said. “Can we get a calf? We’re gonna need milk for the babies. Especially since the genesis is planning to pop them out.”
“I told you before,” Sam said, “there isn’t enough time to put a chamber on the ship. Get used to the powder stuff.”
“Well I won’t like it.” Tucker took a bite of his sandwich and