A conspiracy driven thriller involving money, guns, high speed chases, and outer space. Follow Micah Morris as he is incorporated into his older brother's high stakes mission against corrupt world leaders using satellite technology to gain power by...
I had just finished eating breakfast when I heard the flopping sound of mail falling on the floor from the front door mail slot. I eagerly jumped up from a half-empty bowl of strawberry oatmeal and banana chunks and raced across the kitchen's hardwood floors. I nearly biffed it around the corner as I made a sharp left to get to the front door from the kitchen table.
I shuffled through the mail like it was a deck of cards until I found the exact letter I had been waiting on for so long. There it was, shoved between an electric bill and a mailer ad for free knee replacement consultations, the Star Force Academy emblem in the top left corner.
My hands shook as I grasped the page through sweaty palms. What if I wasn't accepted? I dreamed of being an astronaut for as long as I could remember. I longed to do a spacewalk just outside the ship without external forces pulling me around due to gravity. I yearned to experience the thrill of the missions and the fame of being the hero. Star Force was my best chance at ever going shy of becoming a billionaire.
Was this going to be an acceptance letter or thanks but no thanks letter? My eyes frantically scanned the page until I saw the word, "Congratulations." Everything after that was a blur until I reached the line that read, "Report to Colorado Springs, Colorado for orientation by Friday, the 18th. No exceptions."
That was only six days away. There wasn't a whole lot of time for goodbyes or getting my affairs in order. But it's not really like I had a whole lot of people to say goodbye to anyways. My mom passed away when I was only seven, and my brother, Mitchel, joined Star Force eight years ago and was never heard from again. That just left, dear old dad. Although Dad cared a lot more about how much beer was stocked in the fridge than he ever did about his son's future. He began drinking heavily after my mom died. At the time, he was banging his secretary and took no notice of his wife's cancer. She never wanted to tell him because she didn't want us to worry. When she finally passed, my Dad, Randal, was devastated. How many nights was he "working late," or so he would tell her when he could have been at home spending what little time they had left together as a family? He was never the same after that. His life was only manageable after his fifth of bourbon was two-thirds empty.
"What's all the shit out here?" Asked Randal.
"What?" I replied.
"I heard some... banging around.. or some shit."
"Oh, I slipped. I'm fine, though."
Randal looked at me with a twisted brow and tight nostrils. He had a way of engraining deep disappointment in your very soul with his ever-so-lovely patented scowls.
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"I didn't ask if you were fine. I asked about all... About all the racket!"
9:45 AM, and already his inebriation had been slurring his speech. How delightfully surprising. Annoyed, I shrugged off my father's jab and brushed past him to exit the kitchen. "By the way... I got accepted into the Star Force Academy."
