Like a Fox on the Run

begin its journey.
The squat, nondescript building was located in a partially abandoned industrial park, most of the shops and factories long since idled by globalization and outsourcing decades ago. Surrounded by an electrified fence, no signs or markings anywhere indicated the owners of the property or what business was conducted there. Yet, there was an abundance of “NO TRESPASSING” signs attached at regular intervals to the fence. The tritium-infused paint that allowed them to glow in the darkness only made them appear more ominous.
On the rear loading dock in the dark, a group of men toiled quietly in the blackness of the chilly, moonless night. Four men in lab coats rolled the subject out on a two-wheeled medical dolly. Strapped onto the vertical gurney with nylon restraints, the specimen was blindfolded, gagged, and heavily sedated. After its last frantic outburst, which had resulted in some very nasty gashes and bites for several of the staff, no one was taking any chances.
One thing was certain, No one would miss it once it was gone.
In the darkness, with a minimum of light, the men moved silently, no words being spoken, with clinical precision and efficiency. There was almost a certain nonchalant air about, as if they were simply moving a piece of furniture. Wheeling it up into the back of the van, they strapped the specimen and dolly both into the molded berth custom fit in the inside of the van. Each man, again without a word spoken and without interfering with the other, quickly, and with the greatest efficiency of movement, set about connecting hoses, intravenous tubes, and sensor wires. In less than two minutes this was achieved and the specimen was ready to travel.
Their tasks completed, the lab rats exited the van and went back inside for hot coffee and donuts. Two figures remained on the dock. Both were burly, overweight men. One was an older man who wore the same white lab coat as the other two. He was, frankly, a rather unattractive man to look at, with a receding hairline, fleshy lips and saggy jowls. The perpetual scowl on his face gave him the appearance of a man afflicted with chronic constipation. Yet, the others moved around him in a subdued manner; obviously he was someone of significant authority at the facility.
The man standing before him was only slightly smaller in girth, but was significantly younger. He was dressed in some kind of uniform and wore a sidearm. A security officer, maybe. Still, you didn’t have to look too close to see there was a familial resemblance. The two were closely related.
Even his young relative seemed cowed by the big man, as he now addressed him.
“You do understand the opportunity I am giving you here. Wilbur?” the elder man was saying sternly.
“Yessir.” The young man’s reply was quick, almost automatic. Far too quick to suit the older man.
“I certainly hope so!” his voice raised slightly, an edge to it. “By all rights I should be putting this thing on a scramjet to Atlanta. But I’m giving you a golden chance to further your career here at this corporation, to make something out of yourself, for once!”
“Thank you, Uncle! I really do appreciate it.”
“You’d better! If you screw this up, it not only will be your ass on the line, but mine as well!” He held up his Personal DataCom. Wilbur held his up and tapped it against his uncle’s, transferring the highly encrypted data file the boys in Atlanta would need.
“I won’t let you down, Unc! Promise!”
Uncle didn’t seem convinced. “Look, just get the package to Atlanta … without any problems. And I’ll make sure you and your partner get recognized in the report. Can you do that, Wilbur? Without screwing up?”
“Look, Uncle Joe … if you’re still worried about that incident when I was assigned to the Capricorn Proje—”
“Wilbur,” Uncle Joe sighed as his face turned red. Even in the blackness of night, Wilbur could see it flush. “This is your last chance with this outfit. Stop talking and get in the van.”
“Yessir!” Wilbur knew from the tone of his uncle’s voice that this conversation was over. He moved around the old man and started for the loading dock stairs.
“And Wilbur,” Joe stopped him.
“Yes?”
“Don’t stop ‘til you get to Georgia.”

Chapter 1
Friday
April 26, 2165
1425 Hours CST
“Von Braun-Huntsville, this is Blackbird Delta Five Niner Bravo, requesting permission for final descent, inbound west by southwest, Monte Sano Corridor.”
“Blackbird Delta Five Nine Bravo, you are cleared for final descent on Pad Five-A on a west by southwest heading. You may begin your inbound approach.”
Tanner “Tiger” Thomas lowered his helmet visor and feathered the throttle of the big Super Charger. The Jenny Lou’s four powerful engines hissed angrily and quieted reluctantly as he redirected power to the retrorockets to slow her up for re-entry. She was a pretty girl, a blaze of glory in the black void with her shiny coat of atomic orange. She was a big girl and she had curves where she needed them, just like a real woman should. And she was a powerful girl. He felt that power now, as the braking rockets struggled to slow her momentum. The big ship shuddered roughly and an orange luminescence filled the viewport as she hit the mesosphere. Above the control panel, the dashboard hologram of a scantily-clad stripper, a souvenir picked up years ago in Luna Seven, picked up speed, enthusiastically increasing her revolutions around her ever-present silver pole.
He always likened it to a baptism of fire; that transitional period when the ship left space and the earth’s atmosphere resisted the intruder. Fighting with all its might to return it to the void or burn it into a cinder as the heat shield glowed red and the air around the ship turned a fiery orange, as it rode a