The Storm Begins

Chapter 4

News stations worldwide were already broadcasting the disaster. The footage played on a loop, cheers turning into horror, the spaceship veering off course, and then the sickening cut to static. Social media exploded with speculation. Was it a technical failure? Sabotage? An act of God?

The Wealth Aerospace Headquarters was on lockdown, surrounded by reporters and desperate civilians. Protesters had already gathered outside, chanting, demanding answers. The proud symbol of Nigeria's first space mission was now a crime scene.

Jetpack stood in front of the large screen in the control room, still replaying the last moments of the flight in his mind. He barely noticed the chaos around him, engineers arguing, scientists trying to make sense of the impossible, security trying to hold off the media.

He felt detached, like a ghost watching his own funeral.

His dream, the dream that had consumed his entire life, had just become a national disaster.

A sharp voice snapped him out of his trance.

"Jetpack!"

He turned to see Skyla storming toward him, her phone clutched in her hand. Her eyes were filled with something between fear and anger.

"Have you seen what they're saying online?" she demanded, shoving the phone at him.

He glanced at the screen. A news headline flashed:

The Wealth Disaster: Nigeria's First Space Mission Ends in Tragedy, Who's to Blame?

Beneath it, comments flooded in.

"They rushed the project. This was bound to happen."

"Jetpack Wealth is just a spoiled rich kid playing with lives."

"This is worse than failure. This is murder."

Jetpack's stomach twisted. He forced himself to hand the phone back.

"It doesn't matter," he muttered. "People will talk."

Skyla's expression darkened. "You do realize the government is involved now, right? They funded part of this mission. They're going to want answers. Real answers."

Before Jetpack could respond, the control room doors burst open. A stern-looking woman in a gray suit entered, flanked by uniformed men. The room fell silent.

Jetpack recognized her immediately, Dr. Amaka Odili, the Minister of Science and Technology. She wasn't just any government official. She was the one who had backed the project, the one who had put her career on the line to make this mission a reality.

And now, she was here to clean up the mess.

"Mr. Jetpack Wealth," she said, her voice cold. "We need to talk."

Jetpack straightened his posture. "Minister Odili, I"

She raised a hand. "Not here." Her gaze swept across the room. "Your office, now."

Jetpack swallowed hard, glancing at Skyla, who gave him a slight nod. He had no choice.

The office felt suffocating. Jetpack sat behind his desk while Minister Odili stood, her arms crossed, scanning him with piercing eyes. Skyla sat near the window, her expression unreadable.

"Do you have any idea what you've done?" Odili's voice was controlled, but the anger underneath was unmistakable.

Jetpack inhaled deeply. "We don't know exactly what happened yet. We're still investigating"

"The world isn't waiting for your investigation," she interrupted. "They want answers now. The government is being blamed for funding a disaster. I'm being blamed."

Jetpack met her gaze. "This was an unprecedented situation. We didn't anticipate"

"Then you should have anticipated it!" She slammed a hand on the desk. "You convinced me to push this project forward. You told me it was safe."

Jetpack tightened his grip on the desk, but before he could respond, Skyla spoke up.

"You want answers?" she said coolly. "So do we. But you can't expect a full explanation within hours of the disaster. That's not how science works."

Odili's eyes flicked to Skyla. "And who are you exactly?"

"Skyla Wealth," she said, her voice steady. "Jetpack's sister. And I care just as much about this mission as he does."

Odili exhaled sharply. "Then you should both understand this, if the government decides this failure was due to negligence, there will be consequences."

Jetpack's jaw clenched. "Are you saying they'll shut us down?"

Odili didn't blink. "I'm saying they could hold you responsible. Legally."

The room felt colder. Jetpack felt Skyla shift beside him.

"This isn't over," Odili continued. "The press conference is in an hour. Your investors are panicking. The families of the astronauts are demanding explanations. And if you don't have something to tell them, this company won't survive the week."

Jetpack forced himself to stay calm. "I understand. We'll prepare a statement."

Odili gave him one last unreadable look before turning to leave. At the door, she paused.

"You wanted to change history, Mr. Wealth. Well, congratulations you did."

Then she was gone.

For a moment, the room was silent.

Skyla let out a slow breath. "Well, that was fun."

Jetpack ran a hand through his hair, his thoughts racing. The weight of the situation was suffocating. He had spent years dreaming of this moment, but never like this.

"You need to be careful," Skyla said. "If the government decides you're to blame, they won't just shut down the company, they'll come after you."

Jetpack exhaled. "I know."

"And what exactly are you going to say in that press conference?" she asked.

Jetpack didn't answer. Because the truth was he had no idea.

The press conference room was packed. Journalists, company investors, government officials, all waiting for answers. Waiting for Jetpack.

He sat behind the podium, his fingers tapping against the desk. His mother sat beside him, her expression unreadable, while Skyla stood in the corner, arms crossed.

"Jetpack," she whispered, leaning down. "Are you sure you're ready for this?"

"Do I have a choice?" he muttered.

The room hushed as the press manager stepped forward. "Ladies and gentlemen, we will now begin the questioning."

A journalist immediately stood. "Mr. Jetpack, the world watched as your spaceship vanished. Is it safe to say the Wealth Company has failed?"

Jetpack clenched his jaw. "The project was an ambitious one, and like all great endeavors, challenges arise."

"Challenges?" another reporter interjected. "You mean the loss of your entire crew?"

"We don't know that they're lost," Jetpack countered, though even he barely believed his own words.

"Mr. Jetpack!" Another journalist pushed forward. "Are you taking responsibility for this?"

Jetpack exhaled. His mind raced. One wrong answer, and everything, his company, his name would be in ruins.

"I stand by my team," he finally said. "We are analyzing the situation and will provide updates as soon as we have more information."

It was a weak response, and he knew it.

As the reporters continued to hound him, Jetpack felt something inside him crack. The weight of the world was now on his shoulders.

And he wasn't sure he could carry it.

Then a reporter stood up suddenly, holding out his phone. "Jetpack, we just received this live feed from an independent satellite."

The screen showed a blurry, distorted image. But there was no mistaking what it was.

A spaceship.

Still intact.

Still out there.

The room erupted into chaos. Jetpack's breath caught.

Against all odds, they were still alive.