***
Carl was concentrating on the work in front of him, reading slowly.
***
The network’s special report logo came on. “We interrupt this regularly scheduled program for the following Special Report,” said a new TV announcer, the man unseen. The declaration caught Carl’s attention, only slightly, as he looked back to the computer.
The TV switched to a news room studio with a serious looking, silver haired man, looking down at his material.
“Oh look, your buddy,” Amy poked her head around the corner of the wall.
Carl looked up and groaned. “Great. Winston.”
“Good evening Ladies and Gentlemen,” the news reporter began with a deep velvety voice, “this is Winston Adams with an ADC network, Special News Report.” Carl gave him only a glance, but Amy had moved to the kitchen door, slightly more interested in what the newscaster had to say.
Winston Adams cleared his throat and looked up to his audience with a solemn expression. “Space Agency Spokesperson Jake Wells has just informed us that Astronaut Commander Ron Donald,” Carl jumped forward from his reclining position taking his eyes off the computer, closing the top. He leaned forward, looking to the TV with interest. “Science officer aboard the Space Shuttle Reunion,” Winston continued in his authoritative voice, “has been killed in a freak accident outside the space shuttle.”
“Oh shit!” Carl exclaimed grabbing down around the couch beside him, feeling for something, his eyes glued to the screen.
“Details are sketchy,” Adams continued, “but apparently Donald was struck by a foreign object while he was outside the shuttle working on a satellite.”
Carl was halfway up, searching the couch frantically.
“The object punctured Donald’s pressurized suit resulting in his immediate death,” Winston added. Carl finally found his cell phone and ferociously punched at the buttons.
“This tragedy comes on the heels of The Space Agency’s attempt to rectify itself after the Redoubt disaster,” Winston continued.
Carl was on his feet staring at the television. “Come on, come on,” he snarled impatiently into the phone. He was a big man, the cell phone tiny in his hand. The other hand was pulling through his hair anxiously.
“The launch of Reunion seven days ago was hailed as the "New" Space Program. It had new and improved systems throughout the entire mission, with additional advances in design and materials,” Winston added.
Amy had moved into the living room also watching the broadcast intently. She was five-seven, with shapely legs and torso.
“The Agency was counting on a total success to regain the lost confidence its program suffered when Redoubt burned up on reentry, thirty-three months ago. Details to follow as they become available,” Winston finalized.
Carl dropped back onto the couch hard with the phone up to his ear, waiting for someone to answer.
Amy looked down at him silently, watching him intently. “Aren’t you going to say anything?” she finally asked.
Carl just sat there, still, like he was in shock, the phone still pressed to his ear. “What can I say?” he responded after a moment. “That poor bastard! Dammit, why did I even hope that this one would go smoothly?”
“Because you’re a lazy bugger, you don’t like to work that hard.” Amy reached over and scratched the top of Carl’s head affectionately.
“Very funny, but you know what this is going to mean?” Carl said, looking up at her.
“Yeah, not seeing too much of you, I would imagine.”
“That’s very likely; everyone’s going to want answers. It’s going to make my job really tough.” Carl sighed.
“Hey, you’re the one that took all this on, so stop complaining.”
“I know, I know, but, I was hoping for a few successes so I could get a little established before I had to play hardball,” Carl moaned. “Come on Mac,” he shouted at the phone he had finally taken from his ear, “answer the damn phone.”
Amy put her arms around Carl’s shoulders and put her head down to his. “Say there big shot, I thought you were important down there where you work?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Well, I would think that as the man in charge you’d have been notified some other way than the regular nightly news?”
“It wasn’t the regular news!”
“Still!”
“Oh, I’m a little peeved, you can bet your butt on that, but I don’t know whose ass to jump, yet. How the hell could the wire-service pick this up so fast? I’ll tell you, those vultures scare me sometimes. The harder I try to reason with them, the harder they try to foul me up.”
“Oh sweetie, it’s how they make the big money.”
Carl heard a voice finally respond on the phone and he quickly put it up to his ear. “Hey Mac!” Carl said loudly. “What the hell is going on down there?”
***
Mac MacMillan was sitting upright behind his desk, his elbows planted firmly on the top. He was holding the phone to one ear and rubbing the opposite temple with taunt fingers, watching people rush around in the control center outside his office. He watched the mayhem through the large glass windows that separated his domain from theirs. He sat back into his chair and rotated it 180 degrees trying to get calm.
“Carl, I can’t imagine what you want?” he said into the phone, stress evident in his voice.
“What can you tell me Mac?” Carl asked.
“Well, we lost a man, and directive 18A3C is staring us in the face,” Mac returned.
“Oh shit, I warned you guys,” Carl responded. “I don’t want to say I told you so!”
“Hell Carl, we’ve been over that and over that. I know you don’t approve, but it’s necessary! You know that!”
“Damn Mac, how long are you going to leave him out there?”
“I don’t know at this point? He’s still tethered, but we’re planning to cut him loose shortly.”
“Make damn sure you can find him when the recovery ship is launched. Any idea when that may be?”
“Can’t get any answers on that one.”
“Any guesstimates?”
“Three to four months, but don’t quote me. My neck is stretched to the limit already.”
“Your neck! Do you know how I was informed about this?”
“I couldn’t help it Carl!”
“I was watching Married with Children, dammit!”
“So was his wife!”
“Oh great! What the hell’s happened to the responsibility in that office of yours?” Carl shouted.
“Carl listen, it happened during the ship-to-shore scheduled press update.”
“You mean they got it uncensored!”
“The whole thing . . . well not completely. The information officer had enough sense to scramble the transmission shortly after the problem. They didn’t find out about the directive.”
***
“We interrupt this regularly scheduled program for a Special Update about the Reunion Disaster.” Married with Children was interrupted again and Carl turned back to the television.
“Hold it Mac, Winston is coming back on,” Carl said into his phone.
“I don’t think I want to hear this!”
“What! You mean to say that this isn’t coming from your office?”
“We haven’t released anything yet!”
“It must just be a rehash, making sure he gets to everyone,” Carl said calmly, looking at the special screen, waiting for Winston.
A moment later, the newsroom with Winston sitting regally, popped onto the screen. “Good evening Ladies and Gentlemen, this is Winston Adams with an update on the Reunion tragedy. Astronaut Ron Donald will be cut free from the Space Shuttle Reunion shortly. We do not understand this unspeakable action. We do know that a directive, an 18 something or other, is behind the decision. As information becomes available we will forward it to you. The Space Agency is, as usual, very tight lipped, but you the p
eople that pay for all this have a right to know.”
“That bastard!” Carl shouted, pointing at the TV, his fingers taunt. “Mac, how the hell did he get that directive info? That is classified for God sakes!”
“I haven’t the slightest idea, but maybe he’ll hang himself.”
“Great Mac, but did you even consider the gallows might be a three holer? Whoever is leaking this information, stop them now, please!” Carl shouted. “That pompous S.O.B. doesn’t have the sense to think about what he’s doing. He’s going to unravel everything. You’ve got to talk to him.”
Mac shouted back. “He’s going to want something to talk to me, and you know that.”
“Give him 18A3C,” Carl advised.
Mac swung around in his chair, looking back out into the control room. People were still dashing around. He sat, thinking for a moment. “I’ll need to clear it, but might as well.”
***
“He’s really doing a job on you guys,” Amy said, back in the apartment.
“Thanks, I didn’t need you to point ‘that’ out,” growled Carl.
“What’s the 18 thingy?”
“It’s a directive?”
“And?”
“And what?”
“What does the directive pertain to?” Amy asked annoyed that Carl was not cooperating.
“I can’t tell you, you know that!”
“Carl, Winston just alluded to it on national television. I don’t think it will be any great secret by tomorrow,” Amy reasoned.
“Thanks to him,” Carl pointed toward the TV again.
“You’re not making much sense. According to Winston they’re leaving Donald out there, and I heard you yelling with Mac about it.”
“Donald is staying out there, for the time being.”
“Oh boy, have you got your work cut out for you. Every person in America is going to hate you,” Amy said sitting on the arm of the couch.
“That include you?”
“Not if you tell me about the directive.”
Carl curled his lip at Amy baring his teeth on one side of his mouth, giving her a mock, dirty look, and then explained 18A3C.
***
“Oh boy have you got your work—”
“You already said that!”
“Winston doesn’t need to hammer you on this one, the public will take care of that on their own,” Amy concluded.
“Yeah, and you know he’s not going to back off.”
“What do you think his purpose is?”
“I thought you already decided it was money.”
“He seems to have a personal stake in it. At least that’s what you told me before,” Amy said.
“Hell, I don’t know, it’s ludicrous. You know, ever since the Rendezvous and Redoubt accidents there’s been more than one of these clowns trying to gain something out of the ashes. Winston was a nobody back then, but now, just by hammering at us he’s a big shot. Hey, we’re dealing with a frontier thing here, and there’s bound to be some mistakes.”
“Well, you’re not the first frontier dude to have the Indians circling your wagons, you know.”
“Boy, this is going to make funding damn near impossible.”
“You have the deficit blues my darling.”
“You know that’s a word that most people didn’t even know the meaning of a while back. Now everyone’s an expert on the subject, even the ones that still can’t balance their own check books.”
“How many more experts do you think Winston is creating?”
“Oh I know. Can you imagine? By tomorrow morning we are going to be overwhelmed by suggestions. Boy, have I got one for Winston.”
“Now,” Amy advised, putting her hand on his arm, “think nice things, happy things, constructive things.”
“It was a constructive thought!”
“I doubt if Winston would agree,” Amy snickered.
***
The telephone rang and Carl quickly answered it. “Okay Mac, what’s up?”
“I just got off the phone with the President,” Mac returned, “and he’s a little unhappy to say the least.”
“He didn’t get to watch the rest of Married with Children either?” Carl responded cynically.
“Something like that. Can you imagine the big boss, and the White House being briefed like that? Things appear to be a little tense down there.”
“I can imagine.” Carl sighed. “Are they blaming us?”
“Not yet, it takes a little time to plan a barbecue properly. Anyway, the President wants you to get with Adams, and give him 18A3C.”
“Why me?”
“Because I’d blow my stack, and Winston knows it. He’d be counting on it, correct?”
“What if I blow mine?”
“Better you than me.”
“Thanks! Did that come from the President?”
“He felt that you were in a better position with the press.”
“And, I’m expendable.”
“He was just kidding about that, he really has faith in you. Anyway, to keep Adams happy, until we can plug up the leak, give him 18A3C. Besides, we can’t just leave Donald out there without an explanation.”
“I guess, as long as it’s over the phone. Don’t ask me to see him in person, just yet.”
“It’s your ball.”
“Fine, but while I’m feeding the rabid dog scraps, you figure out how to muzzle it before it bites all of us.”
“I’ll do my best, got any suggestions?”
“Well, there’s only two ways to get info down, either one of our channels, or somebody’s running one of their own?”
“A bug maybe?”
“Why not, they’re really small nowadays.”
“I can’t see any of our personnel participating,” Mac sounded defensive. “Adams is not liked at all, you know that.”
“Mac, Mac,” Carl lectured. “A grudge, blackmail, or just for money? There are many reasons people sell out.”
“Disgusting, but very possible. I guess how and not why is the important thing right now.”
“Oh shit!” Carl shouted. “Here comes Winston again.”
***
“Good evening Ladies and Gentlemen, this is Winston Adams with continuing coverage of the Reunion Disaster. We shift to Allison Mitchell for a profile of Lieutenant Colonel Donald,” announced Winston Adams.
The scene on the television changed to a tall, slim woman with a microphone in her hand. It was dark outside, and she was about to speak with a determined, business look on her pretty face. She had long, dark hair, cut straight. Behind her was a two story house set back on the lot, partially lit by the street light. There’s a bicycle on the lawn under a big tree, and a car in the driveway.
She swished her beautiful hair and began. “This is Allison Mitchell live,” she paused and turned back toward the house. “Ron Donald, the latest victim of the U.S. space program, was raised in this house and when he married and started his family, he purchased—”
“I have a feeling that if the whole world doesn’t already hate us, they will by the time she’s done,” Carl said into the phone.
“Hold on,” Mac said, “watch Winston for me, I have another call.”
Allison continued her commentary. “Colonel Donald always dreamed of being an astronaut—”
Carl, in disgust, hit the mute on the TV remote and threw the instrument clattering onto the coffee table.
“What’s got you so upset?” asked Amy.
“Him!” Carl shouted, thrusting his arm out stiffly, pointing at the TV. The veins in his neck were visible and his six foot two, two hundred pound frame rigid.
“Oh come on,” Amy tried to sound calm and soothing, “at least you don’t have to deal with him one on one.”
“Yes, I do!”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, Mac just said I have to contact him.”
“Why you, you’ll blow your stack.”
“That’s why he just gets a phone call.”
/>
“That’s a safe decision by a big, angry, frustrated guy like you,” Amy chuckled.
Chapter 3
CARL’S PHONE CALL IS ANSWERED - “Carl, I’ve been expecting to hear from you guys. I need to put you on hold for a minute,” Winston Adams snickered confidently.
“Ahhh,” it was a sound of protest and disgust from Carl. “That SOB is in the driver’s seat and he knows it! I think I heard him chuckle,” he whined to Amy, waiting.
***
“Carl, sorry to make you wait,” Winston returned after two long minutes. “It’s good to hear from the agency, and what can I do for you?”
“No, Winston,” Carl countered, “you’ve got it all wrong, I can do something for you.”
“I’m listening.”
“It seems that you’ve gotten a little out of hand and you need to be informed, just so you don’t make an ass of yourself.”
“I’m more informed than you think!”
“It appears that you might be right about that, but when we figure out how you’re obtaining classified information, you won’t be so smug.”
“I have access that you couldn’t imagine and it’s not illegal,” Winston bragged.
“Do you want me to explain 18A3C, or do you want to gloat?”
“I might be interested.”
“Now or never Winston.”
“Don’t threaten me! I have many sources.”
“Fine, give them a call. Good-by Winston.”
“Hold on, hold on, Carl, why must we always squabble?”
“Because you’re a turd Winston! So to keep you from stinking too much, I’ve been instructed to fan a little fresh air over you. Are you listening?”
“Go ahead.”
“Got a pen Winston, I want you to get this right?”
“I always get things right, haven’t you noticed?”
“Directive 18A3C reads, and I quote; ‘To prevent the possible entry of any extraterrestrial unknowns, either organic, mineral, or chemical, into the ecosystem of Earth, the following will pertain. If major vehicle, shuttle, or minor vehicle, space suit, is punctured outside the protective shield of the atmosphere the contamination of that vehicle is automatically assumed. At that point Directives 18BC4 and 18BC5 are to be implemented. Until Directives 18BC4 and 18BC5 are satisfied, Directive 18A3C will remain in effect.”’
“Which means?”
“That Donald stays where he is, for the time being.”
“Oh man, you guys really take care of your own.”
“Donald understood the directive. Do you want to see the copy he signed?”
“Oh come on now, he knew that he couldn’t go flying in all that fancy hardware unless he signed.”