I awoke in my clothes on a bed still made. Getting all the way to consciousness proved a very slow ascent. Flying, even simulated flying, is so surreal and satisfying it makes you sleep as though life is complete.
There was light glowing behind the curtains, but my mind still refused to spin up. There was a fragmented memory of a phone call in the middle of unconsciousness, an irate woman complaining about not having been called in. There may have been a question or request at some point about approving the use of the simulator for another test flight, and it may have been approved just to end the call. I achieved a sitting position on the edge of the bed and wondered if it had actually happened, or had been just a nuisance dream.
Three eggs over easy, nearly burnt toast, black coffee. Sitting at the kitchen table staring out the window I began to ponder the true nature of the universe but caught myself and regained sobriety in realizing I needed to get back to work. That in turn pissed me off—the fact that I now had work.
The Test Control Center was as busy when I arrived as it had been the night before. The simulator was twisting and turning. The room was humming with power and dampened sounds from the motion platform. Techs and engineers were at their stations communicating on the intercom and making adjustments to a flight profile. Terry was at his position, sitting back casually watching it all. He saw me leaning against the door and came over.
“Hey, it’s been pretty amazing.”
“What’s that?”
“Danica. You gave her permission to fly and she’s been up ever since. It’s given us a good chance to tweak the calibrations and take a hard look at the data rates. The equipment is operating like a dream.”
“Funny, I used those exact words last night.”
“That’s not all. It looks like you got yourself one hell of a deal with this pilot. She’s been doing 360-degree turns around each spacecraft axis using an imaginary point in space. Smooth as silk. She’s been doing it in low orbit, too. Everyone here is impressed. Where did you find her, anyway?”
“I didn’t. She found us.”
“Wow. A lucky turn. You may want to get in a poker game somewhere.”
“For God’s sake, don’t tempt me.”
“Anyway, that’s the good news.”
“Uh-oh.”
“Yeah, there’s someone waiting in your office. He says he was sent by the agency. Might be an auditor or something. I’m pretty good at first impressions. I didn’t get such a good one from him.”
“Thanks for the warning. Guess I’ll go do the annoying part of this job.”
The man waiting in my office wore an unbuttoned black Herringbone suit and a striped red tie hanging out to one side against a light-blue oxford shirt. His receding black hair was cut short leaving a sharp V at the forehead. His beard was kept back and narrowed to meet his sideburns. His well-trimmed mustache joined it just beyond the edges of his mouth. He had the look of a man with a practiced shell, a force field that forbid others from seeing through to his true nature. I placed him in his forties, with a few extra lines in the face possibly from failures that should not have happened. There was the aura of a man with secret allegiances to others, but I couldn’t be sure about that. He sat studying a book that had been taken from my desk, which immediately pissed me off again. My initial impressions of people have almost invariably been incorrect. People I have felt immediate acclimation to have on occasion stabbed me in the back and twisted the blade. Others I have found to be completely reprehensible have saved my neck on more than one occasion. It is a painfully slow process learning not to judge someone too quickly. Some of us never learn it. Others take so long the final awakening brings a benefit too late to be of service. A few have the enviable ability not to cast judgment at all. They invariably do better than the rest of us.
I stopped alongside and looked down at him. “You’d better let me take that.” He handed the ringed notebook over. I placed it back on the desk, took a seat on one corner and folded my arms. Through the observation window behind me, the simulator twisted and turned as Danica continued to put it through its paces.
He rose and offered me his hand. It was a limp handshake. “Good afternoon, Mr. Tarn. Paris Denard, Propulsion Systems. Mr. Porre suggested I check in with you before looking over the arrangements.”
Strike one; he had not used my title to address me initially, a clear gesture of disrespect. Strike two; He was acting on Porre’s orders as though he were an independent agent. Strike three; Propulsion engineers do not oversee arrangements.
“Mr. Denard, clarify something for me. Are you here as an outside observer for Mr. Porre?”
“Actually, I’ve been consigned to accompany you on this mission.”
“Well, that would make it sound as though you are a team member. Are you a team member?”
“I was expecting to fill the position of propulsion engineer.”
“Sounds like a team member to me, Mr. Denard. I’m really not one to beat around the bush. Don’t have the patience for it, and I don’t think adults should need to be supervised. Are you familiar with the standard chain of command on a starship?”
“Obviously there are several divisions of hierarchy. I believe I’m familiar with most of the inherencies in each.”
“Mr. Denard, who would you report to on this mission?”
“Well, ultimately that would be Bernard Porre. I believe we all do.”
He was playing the game. It would have been all too easy just to give me the answers I wanted, along with a casual insincerity. But, that wasn’t enough for Denard. He was making it known that his only obligation to me was to accept the least possible amount of authority he could get by with. I had already made up my mind. He would not be taking a seat on the Griffin.
“The crew roster has not been finalized, Mr. Denard. We’ll see how you do, and I’ll let you know.”
“It was my understanding from Mr. Porre that this was an approved assignment.”
“Mr. Porre won’t be coming along on this flight, Mr. Denard.”
There was just a glimpse of concern through the well-practiced stone-face. It vanished as quickly as it appeared. “If you’ll excuse me, Mr. Denard. I have quite a workload. I’ll go over your file as soon as it comes in and probably have some questions after that. You can report to Terry Costerly and he’ll set you up with your training schedule. Good luck.”
I did not offer to shake his hand. I gathered items on my desk and let him leave with my back turned. He did not speak. He closed the door quietly as though no offense had been taken. I wondered just how thick the steel skin was.
A vivacious Ms. Mary Walski, Julia Zeller’s assistant, came trotting in behind Denard, waving the number for Wilson Mirtos she had been kind enough to track down for me. She wore a beige skirt even shorter than the one she had handed out champagne in, and she had the legs for it. The well-fit white silk blouse, again too open, suggested the rest of her was equally well proportioned. She slid the paper down on my desk, gave me a big wide lipstick smile, and dashed off without saying a word.
After the lingering appreciative stare, I punched Wilson’s number into my flip phone and sat back. He answered in the middle of the first ring.
“Wilson here. Whadda ya want?”
“Hey buddy, it’s Adrian.”
“No shit! It’s good to hear your voice, compadre.”
“Wilson, where the hell are you?”
“Orlando, Adrian. I’m in Orlando.”
“What? You’re kidding! You’re in Florida?”
“None other.”
“Why don’t I have video?”
“My phone got crushed a little bit this morning.”
“You’re in Florida, why didn’t you give me a call?”
“Well, there was some trouble.”
“No.”
“Yeah, I’m on probation.”
“How’s that?”
“Well, I thought it was a fair fight, but the judge didn’t.”
“How much probation you
got?”
“Twelve months because of the time before. I kept tryin’ to tell ‘em I didn’t want any trouble…”
“I know. I know.”
“Adrian, that shit don’t work.”
“What kind of work do they have you doing?”
“I’m on the Journey Into Space, and a couple other ones.”
“Disney World? You’re working at Disney World?”
“I’m telling you, their stuff has gotten so advanced nobody here understands it. I’m kind of popular here.”
“You’re a spacecraft systems engineer and you’re working at Disney World?”
“The judge says I got to stay in his jurisdiction so he will know if there’s any more trouble.”
“Well listen, I want you to come fly with me.”
“Jesus Adrian, are you kidding?”
“Can you handle a long one in a zero-G vehicle?”
“Hell, I don’t care what it is. I’m down, but you’d have to get me released from the judge.”
“No problem. Give your notice this afternoon, pack it up, and report in at Genesis as soon as you can. Go to the south gate of the space center, but don’t go in. It’s Genesis, on the right, just before you get there.”
“No shit? For real? Man, I owe you one, Adrian. A big one.”
“I got a cute little hot shot pilot here who loves kick boxing and wants to take you on.”
“Now I don’t want no more trouble…”
“Friendly fighting, Wilson. Sparring.”
“Oh, okay, I guess.”
“Your badge will be waiting at the guard shack.”
“Thanks, Adrian. Thanks. I’m on my way.”
It had been the right call at the right time. I prided myself on getting a grade A systems engineer to agree to the mission and even be happy about it. A few calls from the right agency brass and Wilson’s probation would quickly disappear forever. I felt like whooping it up but was interrupted when RJ barged in. He had a smug look on his face and was laughing under his breath. He plunked down in a chair and looked at me with a smirk.
“They tried to catch me with the ECS but I got ‘em good.”
“You made it in! I thought you were taking the day off?”
“I told you. I do not conform to a prescribed daily rotation. I listen to the body. It tells me what it needs and what it doesn’t.” He laughed under his breath again. “They tried to pop-the-top on me.”
“A hull breach? They tried to get you with a rapid depress?”
“Yep, but I knew it was coming. My ears are really sensitive. They starting popping even before any of the alarms went off, so I was over at the environmental control panel in the B-airlock before anything really happened. They programmed the leak in the science lab so I sealed it just as the first alarm bell rang. It was so fast they thought the habitat simulator was not working correctly. Instead of checking what I had done, they all went into diagnostic mode. It was funny.”
“Gee… I’m impressed, RJ.”
“Yeah. You should have seen their faces trying to figure out why there was no decompression. The joke was on them.”
“You know they’re going to try harder now next time, right?”
RJ lost his smirk and thought about it. “Hmm, I may have outsmarted myself on this. I’d better bring donuts tomorrow morning. How’s it going on your end?”
“Up and down. Wilson’s on board.”
“Wow, that was fast. I wish I could have heard the sales pitch.”
“Wasn’t necessary. He was looking for something.”
“You said up and down. What’s the down?”
“Have you run into Paris Denard?”
“Nope.”
“He’s the agency’s choice for propulsion engineer. When you get a chance, bump into him and introduce yourself. Let me know what you think. I’ve already formed an opinion.”
“Sounds contentious.”
“He thinks he’s going. I think he’s not.”
“Well I know who’s gonna win that one.”
I leaned back, swiveled in my chair, and noticed that the flight simulator had settled into its inert state. “Mmm, I’d better go check in with the TD.”
“Oh good. I’ll join you and pretend I’m not smug.”
In the Test Control Center, Terry and Danica were standing in the center of the room talking as the techs and engineers milled about their stations resetting things and reviewing data. As we approached, Danica stopped talking and looked over at me.
“Well, did you get it out of your system?”
“Never. By the way, sorry about the phone call, Commander.”
“Oh. So that really happened, huh?”
“Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.”
“No kidding? What do we have tomorrow, Terry?”
“Rendezvous and docking, with manual.”
“Danica, you want the left seat first?”
“Are you kidding now?”
“I’ll get to see how an expert does it.”
She eyed me with distrust. “Yes. Yes, you will.”
“Terry, have you set Paris Denard up?”
“Yes. We’ll throw some OMS engine failures at him to start with, see how he does crawling around in the service corridor. I’d really like to reserve the pool over at KSC and see how he handles removing panels in a spacesuit. He says he’s done it, but I’d like to see it.”
“Don’t spend too much resource on him just yet.”
“Oh, okay.”
“Well folks, if anyone needs me, I’ll be in my office. If you don’t see me just dig through the pile of books. I’ll be under there somewhere.”
Terry raised his hand. “Adrian, we need our other two pilots.”
“You’re right. That’s the top of my list, with everything else.”
Terry turned to RJ, “We need to talk to you about that last habitat emergency. Got a minute?”
RJ followed Terry and looked back with a smirk on his face as they headed for the habitat simulator.
Chapter 8