Lost Cause

A Forgotten Contact story by jinnis

"Agent 301-B, urgent call. Please report to T-A-K station command in person."

Still half asleep, I stared at the decoder and cursed under my breath, the steaming cup of coffee in my hand forgotten. This transmission spelled trouble and some, and it came at the worst possible moment. Not because it was early morning and the first rays of the sun only touched the meadows stretching from my cottage to the lake. And not that there ever was a good time for an official message in this tone. At least they had bothered to add a 'please'—if only to appease me. Despite this effort, the message didn't leave me with many options. I had to answer and I would have to move my ass to T-A-K station. And this right now, when I'd finally thought I'd found a sliver of hope, the proverbial silver lining on the horizon.

I took a sip of the coffee and burnt my tongue while I studied the message on the small screen again. It had come in late last night and the symbol for an urgent call still flashed. I considered ignoring it. What if I just pretended my equipment was broken or that an atmospheric storm had cut my connection? Out here, storms had become rather frequent these last few years. Climate change made itself more obvious with every passing season.

But hiding myself wouldn't do. The agency would probably send a shuttle to pick me up if I didn't respond within a few hours. And this would cause a bunch of additional troubles. My only option was to tell them I was on my way, shut down my station, and follow instructions.

Before I found time to write an answer to the first message, a second one came in.

"Agent 301-B, confirm reception of orders."

Great. No 'please' this time and a significant sharpening of the tone. Did t they know it was early morning here? I took a deep, calming breath, a sip of coffee, and typed out my answer.

"Message received. Preparing the shutdown of the station and function check of transportation."

I hadn't used the shuttle in forever, and they knew. They could hardly expect me to blast off without running at least a routine checkup.

The confirmation came after the usual transmission delay.

"Affirmative, Agent 301-B. Awaiting affirmation of departure."

"Copy. I'll confirm when I'm ready for takeoff. Over and out."

I leaned back, savouring what might well be my last real coffee. The temptation to ignore the calls and go into hiding was real. I could start a new life somewhere, bury myself in a remote mountain cottage. Even remoter than the one I owned now. For a precious moment, I allowed myself to dream, well aware this option didn't exist. They would track me down everywhere within days.

I drowned the dregs of the coffee, rinsed the cup and placed it in the dish rack. No, I wouldn't put it in the cupboard. Perhaps, if I pretended hard enough, I'd be back—I hung onto the illusion even though I knew chances were less than slim.

With a longing glance out of the kitchen window and across the lake, I opened the drawer. As usual, it jammed halfway, and I had to squeeze my hand past my cutlery to push the hidden lever. The trap door in the floor squeaked open to allow me access to the secret hangar beneath my kitchen.

I hadn't used the little beauty in ages, as it was meant as an emergency shuttle only. Of course, I had done basic maintenance, made sure the power cell remained charged, and even dusted off the cobwebs once a year. With a sigh, I opened the tiny hatch and squeezed myself into the pilot seat. But wait, I had forgotten something. In a hurry, I scrambled up the stairs to the kitchen and picked up the little bag from the counter. I'd only bought it last week and never got around to start on my new pet project. If I couldn't do it here, I might launch it somewhere else. Hope dies last.

To my great relief, the shuttle engines kicked in without as much as a stutter and minutes later, I sent the demanded confirmation. When HQ received it, I'd already be on my way.

The exit tunnel led my craft to the slope above the lake. If a lone hiker saw me burst out of a copse of young pines, they would probably think they witnessed a secret rocket launch and assign it to the military. Perhaps they would spread a rumour about an UFO haunting this nature reserve. However, chances were slim I'd get discovered, and no one had the means to stop my little craft now.

I activated the radar cloaking and pulled up. My home dropped away below me into misty obscurity while I steered my craft in a wide arch away from the sun.

The flight to my designated jump gate outside the Kuiper Belt was smooth and fast. I was already queued for the jump—not that this route was traveled much these days. There were no other craft in attendance. Soon enough, the swirling maw of the gate swallowed my ship and puked me out close to T-A-K an instant later. This was it, my last few moments in independence. With a sigh, I guided my craft to the docking bay and waited for the lock to connect me to the real world.

As soon as the pressure of the seals equalised, I opened the hatch. No need to delay the inevitable. An aide with unreadable features stood already outside to pick me up and guided me to the agency's headquarters.

"Agent 301-B, welcome back." Instead of the grizzled officer that sent me on my mission all those years ago, a young officer sat in the command chair. It threw me off, although I should have expected the change. Time had been moving on during my absence.

"Thank you." I hoped my surprise wasn't too obvious.

The new commander nodded. It annoyed me I could read their features. It seemed I had been out of contact for too long.

"Agent 301-B, I have the pleasure of informing you that you fulfilled your contracted period of duty. Congratulations on your well-earned retirement."

Huh. This wasn't what I had expected—had it been that long? "Thank you so much."

I knew I had to add something, but I was at a loss. The officer picked up a data cube from their desk. "As a compensation for your dutiful service, you'll be assigned living quarters and an allowance on your planet or station of choice."

"Oh." This day was full of surprises. Perhaps this was a good one? "Can I go back to Earth, then? I own a small but adequate cottage at a lakeside, there."

"No, of course you can't go back to this planet. By a government decision, we were supposed to end the engagement on Earth several cycles ago. It remains a mystery why my predecessor never recalled you. You of all our agents should know best humans proved to be a lost cause. The planet will remain under a no-interference shield to assure nobody crosses paths with these species. They are classified as of unpredictable killers and destroyers of their own life base."

"But not all humans are the same. And there are other species on Earth. Why don't we at least try to save the animals and plants? They never joined humanity's quest for dominance."

"True, but to save them would mean to interfere with the local ecosystem. It's against the number one rule of engagement."

I sighed. They were right, of course. I had feared humanity had passed the point of no return a while ago. And despite my best efforts and a very loose interpretation of the first rule, I had failed to prevent the worst. All my sneaky and fruitless attempts to teach humans the value of peace and respect for life. My secret meetings with promising leaders. The hope I felt when listening to the speeches of Martin Luther King, Mahatma Ghandi, Mother Teresa or Nelson Mandela. All in vain.

The officer interrupted my thoughts. "We might reevaluate if humans survive the 21st century of their counting without destroying life on their planet. That's the only thing we can do at this point. Thanks for your service and enjoy the retirement."

And that was it. I had always planned to live out my days on beautiful Earth. Alas, it wasn't meant to be. Perhaps it was better to forget about humans and find a hobby to pass the time in my forced retirement.

I closed my hand around the bag in my pocket. By the time the agency was ready to evaluate supporting Earth again, the beans inside would have grown into mighty coffee trees. At least caring for them would keep me occupied. And in time, it would satisfy my cravings for a cup of coffee in the morning.