text: See part here. Links to other parts of the story begin there. **11** “Terry.” “Terry.” “You fucked up, Terry.” Pulling his eyes away from the pool of blood forming under Clarence’s body, Terry, who was still sitting on the floor, the gun clutched in his hands, finally looked at Devon’s face on the monitor. “Mr. Champlain. I didn’t hear you call.” “I didn’t call. I didn’t need to. I was just doing that as a courtesy before. The line’s been open the entire time. You should have known that. You know I’ve always been paranoid as fuck.” “I see.” Terry’s eyes returned to Clarence, or what was left of him. “There’s still a way we can work this out, Terry.” His formerly trusty companion slowly shook his head. “No. There’s not.” “What the fuck, Terry?” There was no hiding Devon’s anger now. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing? How many lives you’re going to destroy?” Terry turned back to the display, a look of disbelief on his face. “Of course I do, Mr. Champlain. Why else do you think I’d do it?” “But Terry, surely there must be something--” Terry raised his gun and pointed it at the monitor. “Goodbye, Mr. Champlain.” “Terry, wait!” **12** Devon stared at his phone’s blank screen as he spun slowly in place above the king-size bed in the middle of his luxury suite. A moment later, someone knocked on his door. “It’s open.” The door slid to the slide, revealing Darla’s haggard face. She gripped both sides of his doorframe and propelled herself into his room, stopping herself by pressing her hand against the oversized window, which offered a pristine view of Earth and the space beyond, her handprint marring the otherwise perfectly clear glass. She studied Devon’s face. “You don’t look so good.” He glanced up at her. “To be honest, neither do you.” “Asshole.” “Bitch.” He reached up to the ceiling and spun himself, so he could look out the window. A moment later, she drifted over to join him. “I guess we deserve this, huh?” she said, her voice soft as she stared out into space. Devon shook his head slowly, his eyes on the stars. “No, no one deserves this.” \* \* \* **Author's note:** This story started as a screenplay called *TransJack*. It was going to be a futuristic take on the story of Jack and the Beanstalk, where the beanstalk was a space elevator that led to a wealthy orbital community, and Jack was a lowly space elevator operator who had accepted some disfiguring bio-modifications (hence the “trans” part of his name) in order to do his job. Jack’s position makes him a target for terrorists, who want to use his access to the elevator to sabotage the elite orbital world. Jack is torn, because as much as he resents his overlords, he’s fallen in love with the daughter of one of them, who he gets to know during her frequent trips up and down the elevator. One thing leads to another, including a terrible betrayal, and Jack finally finds himself in a situation where he feels he has no choice but to sever the cable that tethers the space elevator to Earth’s equator, sending the elevator, the terrorist leader, and his lover spinning off into space. I thought it was a good story, but when I saw the film *Elysium*, I knew the project was dead. That film had too many of the same elements, from the elite who live in orbit to the criminal element that wants to access the space habitat to the bio-modifications that protagonist Max Da Costa, played by Matt Damon, must accept to pull off the job. However, even though that approach seemed unlikely to sell, I was still fascinated by the concept of space elevators, so I tried to think of another way to approach the story. Inspiration struck at an unlikely time--as it often does. I was teaching a class on screenwriting when I pitched a what-if scenario about a space elevator being hijacked on its maiden voyage with a number of VIPs trapped inside, with the terrorists threatening to sever the cable unless their demands were met. I liked the idea, so from there it was just a question of who does it and why. For reasons best known only to my subconscious mind, I chose to approach the writing of this story similar to how I might write a high-concept/low-budget film with minimal locations and characters. I also attempted to use a spartan writing style reminiscent of Andy Weir’s excellent novel, *The Martian*. Of course, Arthur C. Clarke was also a major inspiration for this book, not only because of Fountains of Paradise but also because he was the author who originally ignited my love for science-fiction. I can only hope that this story is a fitting tribute to him, Andy Weir, Frank Herbert, Edgar Rice Burroughs, H. G. Wells, Ray Bradbury, and the many other sci-fi authors who inspired me over the years. Hopefully it will inspire others as well. Thanks to everyone who has read this story! If you'd like a hard copy of *GEO*, it is available on Amazon.