by Jack L Knapp
Martha was reaching for her cell phone as she left the building.
Chapter Ten
Martha Simms was finally savoring her first cup of coffee, two hours into her workday. Mornings were always hectic, analyzing overnight reports, making decisions, scheduling conferences for follow-up. Much of her time was spent dealing with subordinates whose latest crisis could have been handled without her intervention. The burr from her telephone was doubly unwelcome. Martha sighed and accepted the call. A second cup would have to wait.
“Yes?”
“Madame, there’s a message from Mister Crane’s doctor. He’s awake!”
“Oh, wonderful! Is he still on the line?”
“Yes, Madame. One second...”
“Martha Simms?”
“Yes. You are..?”
“I am André de Foucault, Mister Crane’s physician. We spoke before, when you visited the hospital.” The doctor had a pronounced accent.
“Of course. Forgive me, doctor, I should have remembered your name.”
“Modesty compels, I am only one of the team who worked on Mister Crane. But I called to tell you the good news. He’s awake!”
“Excellent, doctor! I was worried, the operation to relieve the pressure...”
“I believe it was successful, Madame. Mister Crane asked who we were and where he was, a most usual reaction. He seemed surprised, but we had only a short opportunity to speak. He sleeps now, a thing which is also not unusual. Patients with head injuries such as Mister Crane’s often recover rapidly when they wake from the coma.”
“Would I be permitted to speak to Mister Crane if I visited?”
“For a short time, depending on Mister Crane’s response. I understand you’re no longer in France?”
“No, I’m back at my office, in Switzerland. But I can be in Cherbourg-Octeville tomorrow morning, if that would fit into your schedule. Mister Crane’s health is my first concern.”
“Of course. I look forward to your visit with great anticipation, Madame.”
Martha finished her coffee, now cool, and poured another cup. Frenchy would want to know; Martha sent him a text message. Consulting her calendar, she thought of what had to be done, what could be postponed, then rearranged her schedule. Her anxious secretary waited, hoping to gain her attention.
“That can wait, Marî. I require a private jet and a rental car, or if that is not available, a car with driver.”
“Today? But that is not possible, Madame!”
“No, for tomorrow morning, early. I am flying to France, to Cherbourg-Maupertus Airport. I’ll need the car when I arrive.”
“Yes, Madame. Will you be returning tomorrow?”
“I expect so. The aircraft can wait. Instruct them to service it for a return flight and stand by.”
“Of course. I’ll see to it, Madame.”
#
Martha telephoned Frenchy as soon as the plane was in the air, returning to Zurich. She’d attempted to call him as the taxi carried her back to the airport, but had been unable to establish a connection.
“How is Will doing, Martha?”
“He’s alert. The doctors expect a full recovery, at least physically. Mentally, I’m not sure. Going by what the doctor said, Will’s memory may be a problem.”
“He has amnesia? Martha, that’s very bad news.”
“Not total amnesia, more like holes in what he remembers. He knows who he is, he recognized me, but when I mentioned the hijacking he didn’t remember anything at all.”
“The hijacking took place after he was abducted, Martha. He wouldn’t know about it.”
“I know, but he also doesn’t remember being abducted, and he has no idea of what happened to him. He was astonished when I told him the hospital was in France. He knows the doctor’s name and the name of the hospital, they told him that, but he never made the connection. French names aren’t uncommon in America, many doctors are immigrants, so he just assumed he was in New Mexico.”
“That’s not good. How long do the doctors think?”
“For a physical recovery, they estimate six weeks. There were deep bruises as well as the depressed fracture in the skull, plus there was the work done to relieve pressure on his brain. Mentally, they won’t offer a guess. One of the nurses was more open, she said he might remember everything tomorrow or he might never remember some things.”
“I guess it’s time to make some decisions. Martha, can you handle the European operations, at least for now? It’s a lot to dump on you, I intended to bring you along and allow you to work your way into the job, but I can’t leave Lina and the babies. Chuck’s...well, you know where he is.”
“Yes. We hear from him daily, but he has his hands full. The French have taken Flea to a storage hangar. I understand they have also filed a protest with the American government. They tried to complain to the Swiss, but that went nowhere. The Swiss are business people, they like having us here.”
“The French didn’t like us before, they only did business with us because we were the only ones who could dispose of their radioactive material. They probably hate us now. Nothing to do about it, I suppose.”
“Speaking of flight operations, that is one problem I can’t deal with. I simply don’t understand what the ships can do and what they can’t.”
“I’ll talk to Chuck. He’s supposed to come here, after he decides what to do with the salvaged units. He might have someone who could assist you.”
“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that. You’ve been very lucky so far. If you continue using the same locations and predictable flight times, you’re inviting another hijacking attempt. You have enemies, they know where your facilities are, so count on it, they’ll be back. Next time, they’ll be better prepared. As for the last group of hijackers, Interpol has files on them. The French are holding the two survivors and the four bodies have been released to relatives. A Russian was in charge, but he was killed in the crash. The survivors are German. The others are a mixed bag, an American and a pair of Belgians.”
“That doesn’t sound right; gangs don’t usually have members from different nations. Russian gangs, German gangs, that I can understand. The Mafia are Sicilian, or at least Italian. But no ethnic ties? Maybe this is a new development.”
“Interpol doesn’t think so. They suspect government involvement, perhaps an association of governments.”
“Something to think about. Meantime, you hold the fort in Europe and I’ll talk to Chuck about flight operations. He may have to do both jobs for now, or find someone to take over for Will. I can’t do much while I’m here in Australia. I hate to do it to Chuck, Lina needs him too. But too many people depend on us. It’s not just the money, we’re finally in space and this time it’s different. Private citizens are doing this, not just governments. Maybe, if we do it right, we can avoid the wars and the corruption, the constant political maneuvering for dominance.”
“Good luck with that, Frenchy.”
#
Lina developed a minor fever, so her doctor readmitted her to the hospital. He thought it was something routine, but decided not to take chances. She responded to antibiotics, but remained hospitalized as a precaution.
The hospital room was cramped and dim; Lina’s bed took up most of the space and a bewildering array of equipment stood here and there. Frenchy managed to acquire a chair and lamp which he’d placed in a corner as a makeshift office. He was working on a document when Chuck walked in, and a stack of others waited by the chair. Lina was sleeping.
Chuck walked quietly to Frenchy and held out his hand. Moments later, the handshake turned into an awkward hug; the noise caused Lina to stir. Chuck put his arms around her as she stood, the embrace turning to a long kiss. Neither of them noticed as Frenchy slipped quietly from the room.
The night was pleasant, the day’s warmth chased away by a cool breeze off the bay. Frenchy admired the hospital’s grounds, made visible by a system of lights mounted on meter-tall stands. His stroll soo
n turned to a brisk walk; he’d had very little time for exercise since arriving in Australia. An hour’s walk would do him good.
Chuck had appropriated the only chair and moved it by Lina’s bed when Frenchy returned. Chuck started to get up, but Frenchy gestured to keep his seat.
“Thanks for giving us some time, Frenchy.”
“It’s been an hour and a half, Chuck. I do need a few minutes of your time, but I decided it could wait.”
“What now, Frenchy?”
“It’s Will. Martha thinks he’ll recover eventually, but he’s lost memory. Whether he’ll ever be able to fly again, only time will tell.”
“Damn. Does he know?”
“Martha didn’t say and I doubt she knows. She just said his memory has holes in it. Even a slight impairment will ground him, at least until he retrains. I want you to take over his job.”
“Damn again. I was looking forward to building Moonbase. Is that on hold, or are you giving the job to someone else?”
“What about Wolfgang? Can he handle it?”
Chuck scratched his chin while he thought. “Probably. Let me talk to him before you decide. He keeps his cool, that much I know. Yeah, if he’s got experts to handle the technical stuff, he could do it.
“What about you, Frenchy? When are you coming back? I can’t fly missions and handle all the stuff Will was doing.”
“We’ve got other people who can fly the ships, Chuck.”
“I was afraid you were going to say that. What about Lina and the babies?”
“Lina will be going home tomorrow, but the doctors still won’t give us an exact date when they’ll release the babies. They mentioned low birth weight as an issue and said they wouldn’t release them before they’d done a number of tests. They seem to know what they’re doing.”
“You’re staying in Brisbane, then?”
“I am, at least for now. Later, I don’t know. I handled the business decisions, but I’m no flyer, Will took care of that. You are.”
“Yes, and I’ve also had business training, but you’ve got years of experience. Classwork is no substitute for that.”
“I can do most of my work from here, and if you need assistance, I’ll help. What say we take a walk? We can work out the details.”
Chuck studied Frenchy’s expression, but his poker face was still intact.
“Sure, I wouldn’t mind stretching my legs.”
Frenchy waited until after they’d left the building. “I didn’t tell Lina, but there’s a slight possibility the babies might have cerebral palsy. Boys are more at risk than girls. They’re concerned about the premature birth, combined with them being twins. Both are risk factors. That’s why the doctors are hesitant to let us take the babies home.”
“I don’t know much about cerebral palsy. Does it cause...well, mental problems? What about learning difficulties?”
“There’s a risk, depending on a number of factors. Best thing to do, wait and see. It frequently involves some loss of mobility, meaning the child needs crutches or a walker, maybe even a wheelchair. The reason is that with CP, some areas of the brain didn’t develop before birth. That said, many CP kids have normal or even above-average intelligence.”
Chuck looked at the ground, eyes moist. “I hoped the kids might follow me into space at some point.”
“That’s natural, but you need to think your way thorough this. It may well be that your kids can live a normal life, even a better life, under reduced gravity. But let’s not borrow trouble, okay? CP is only a possibility at this point.”
“Lina needs me, Frenchy. How can I leave her? She’ll never forgive me, I won’t be able to forgive myself. What if I’m not here when the doctors find out for sure?” Two tears tracked down Chuck’s face.
“Chuck, there’s nothing you can do. You’re right, Lina will need support, but what about our people?”
“I don’t know. Give the job to Martha.”
“She already ruled that out. She can’t fly, and when I mentioned getting a pilot’s license, she nearly panicked. Something’s wrong there. Anyway, she just refused to consider it. No, Wolfgang can oversee Moonbase while it’s being built, but he’s not an owner. That’s me, you, Lina, and Will. Lina can’t, Will can’t, it’s you or me, and I can’t fly. That leaves you.”
“You already worked this out, didn’t you?”
“Pretty much. Management’s not rocket science, son. Yeah, you’ve got a wife and babies, but you’ve also got hundreds of thousands of people, two dozen ships with more still building, contracts...the stuff we’re hauling is dangerous, and without our help, thousands of people, maybe millions, could be affected.”
“You really know how to lay on a guilt trip, don’t you? So who’s in charge of this world-wide operation that’s so important that I have to give up my personal life? You or me?”
“I hadn’t really thought of it in those terms. But you’re right. Neither one of us has a choice. I’ll make it official. You’re CEO, I’m chairman of the board and a consultant. How does that sound?”
“You really want me to answer that, Frenchy? Don’t tempt me!”
The two walked silently into the building. Chuck stopped at the door to Lina’s room. “I’ll be back here once a week, at least. If I can’t have that, fuck the whole thing.”
“Agreed. I’ll pick up some of the load until we can find someone else to help you.”
“You explain this to Lina. I don’t have the guts.”
“I can do that. What about Moonbase?”
“I’ll give Wolfgang a call. Poor bastard, he really loves flying. We’re about to take his life away from him too.”
Chapter Eleven
The office was large, airy, well lit, yet seemed confining. Chuck had become accustomed to seeing the moon and the distant unwinking stars through Farside’s viewport.
And there were so many people! What did they do? Could he possibly manage the extended neo-empire called NFI? Who were his assistants? Could he work with them? Frenchy had, but Chuck wasn’t Frenchy. His absence would be felt, as would Will’s.
Well. There would be briefings, meetings, decisions to make. But first, he needed a replacement for himself, someone to take over the construction project on the moon. Chuck thought for a moment longer, then buzzed for his secretary.
“Adelheid, message Captain Albrecht. He was commander of Gypsy, but that may have changed.”
“His new ship is Gypsy Moth, Chuck. What message shall I send?”
“Ask him to contact me the next time he’s dirtside. After that, set up meetings with the department heads. I’ll want a briefing from each of them, so have them set that up. I’ll need one of the ships available...no, change that. I hate to take a ship off schedule, we don’t have a replacement yet for Flea. What’s our balance sheet look like? Can I afford a personal ship, maybe something smaller than Farside? Get with Pete, tell him I want a small ship, four impellers aft, two forward. He’ll know what I mean. Let acquisitions know, they can negotiate with the factory. See how long it will take. This is second priority for the factory, replacing Flea comes first.”
“Certainly, Chuck. I’ll see to it. We need to discuss your personal schedule as soon as you have time.”
“Add it to the list. Just don’t schedule anything for the weekend. I’ll be in Australia, leaving Friday around 6pm, arriving as soon as possible. I’ll be back in Rovaniemi Sunday night, probably about 8pm local time.”
“I understand. How’s your wife doing?”
“She’s home, but the babies are still in the hospital. She spends most of each day with them, as much as the hospital will allow. They sleep a lot.”
“Babies do that, Chuck,” Adelheid’s tone was dry. “It’s normal.”
“Tell that to Lina! She worries.”
“Any mother would. Maybe, if she had something else to occupy her time...”
“I don’t know. I’ll have to ask. Now that you mention it, I do have something she might be interested
in.”
“I’ll be back in a few minutes. Would you like a coffee or a tea while I’m arranging your schedule?”
“Coffee, please. But don’t you do it; send one of the clerks.”
“I don’t mind, Chuck. I’ll get a cup for myself.”
This too was new; there were so many demands on his time now that he needed a personal staff. Adelheid Laaksonen was his personal secretary and chief of staff. She had her own empire in a sense, the clerks, the communicators, the hundreds of unsung people who make an organization successful without ever being noticed. Chuck resolved to pay close attention to those he met and offer praise when it was deserved.
#
Captain Albrecht arrived at Chuck’s office the following morning.
“Wolfgang, I was impressed with the way you dealt with that problem, the over-max-gross cargo.”
“I was pretty impressed myself, after I had time to think!” chuckled Wolfgang.
“You like flying Gypsy Moth?”
“I do. She’s got a lot more power, plus the fuel and oxidizer tanks hold more than twice as much as Gypsy’s. She’s a sweet bird.”
“Ever get bored with flying, just the same old thing, haul a cargo past lunar orbit and send it off to the sun?”
“It’s routine,” Wolfgang’s reply was suspicious. “But I love flying. There’s nothing like watching the stars come to life as you leave the stratosphere, or watching the moon and Earth line up when you head back.”
“I’ve got another job if you’re willing to give it a try.”
“Will it involve flying?”
“Some. I want you to take charge of building Moonbase. I’m stuck behind a desk now and I can’t say I like it, but it’s got to be done. It doesn’t look like there’s an alternative unless we hire from outside the company, and we can’t do that. Are you willing to give Moonbase a try?”
“I don’t know. I’ll need to think about it. I’ve never done anything like that.”
“You had never flown a spaceship either. There’s a first time for everything. We need pilots, but more than that, we need executives. Most of all, we need people who can think under pressure. You’ve proved you can, and that’s the indispensable quality a manager must have.”