Patrick looked at each picture for a few moments before moving on to the next. After he had checked them all out, he handed them back and asked, “What’s up with this one on top. It looks pretty nice and I like the lawn. What’s the floor plan look like?”
She pulled the spec sheets and floor plan from the folder, handing them over.
He looked over the information, liking that all the rooms were on one floor, but the home had a full-sized basement too.
“This looks nice. Is there anyone living there now?”
She shook her head and said, “No. It’s been empty for almost a year now.”
“Is there something wrong with it? Why’s it been on the market so long?”
“There’s a glut of homes for sale. Some repossessed, a few are left behind by their owners hoping to get out from under what they owe because their mortgages are more than the homes are worth. A very small percentage were new construction in developments that either didn’t sell or the sales fell through.
“If you have time, I can take you through the place tomorrow or the next day—well, anytime really. Whenever you’re available.”
Patrick was silent as he went over the information again, looking closely at the photos.
“How much is it to keep up a pool like this? You know, heating, cleaning and such?”
“I’m not really sure. Someone in the office will have a better idea, but I’ll know by tomorrow.”
The waiter returned with their drinks, promising that their food would be on its way shortly. Putting aside any further discussion of the house, they continued getting to know each other.
When the meal came to a close, dessert finished and Melody having paid the bill, she caught Patrick trying to conceal a yawn.
“How about I call you tomorrow? We’ve both had a pretty long day. Does that work for you?”
Somewhat relieved, though maybe a little disappointed that he wasn’t going to have to navigate the ins and outs of a burgeoning intimate relationship, Patrick nodded as another yawn overtook him.
The two walked out of the restaurant together, and gave their valet tickets to the doorman. They chit-chatted until Melody’s car pulled up to the curb. She leaned in to give Patrick a quick hug, promising to call him before noon to set up a time to go through the house.
As she drove off, her lingering scent brought a smile to Patrick’s face as he allowed himself to briefly consider the prospect of becoming more than just friends.
Unfortunately, the next day he was buried under a complete overview of the Project Jove spacecraft’s status and never had the opportunity to think about a new home.
The spacecraft, the most ambitious space construction project in the history of NASA, was so large it was easily visible by eye from earth’s surface as it orbited overhead. The ship was designed in three discrete modules: the living quarters for the crew, a massive supply module also containing life support machinery, and the propulsion module.
The ship looked for all the world like a massive, slightly misshapen Apollo command and service module. The forward portion of the ship contained the control cabin. It looked very much like the command capsule of the Apollo spacecraft wearing a spare tire around its middle. Just aft of the forward section was the crew module, and immediately behind the crew quarters was the storage module, carrying oxygen, food and water for the astronauts, as well as spare parts for the mission-critical components of the ship. At the rear was a large fuel tank and the cluster of engines that would push it out past Mars.
The crew compartment was designed to carry a maximum complement of twelve, split between mission specialists and what were being called ambassadors. The eight specialists were responsible for getting the craft out to the solar system’s asteroid belt and back to earth safely. The other members of the Jove crew were still being worked out. They would be tasked with contacting the former lunar inhabitants, opening up a working dialogue with them and then perhaps negotiating any possible concessions that could be had.
The Jove mission was designed to be strictly scientific and diplomatic, in other words there would be no military components included, the US government having learned a harsh lesson from the ill-fated SEAL team mission to the lunar surface.
The worldwide backlash from that effort to confront the black separatists with an armed invasion was still being felt a decade later. Even America’s staunchest supporters had turned a cold shoulder to their ally. The only country that had not succumbed to the nearly universal condemnation was Russia, which had provided logistical support to the armed mission in the first place and had their own diplomatic collateral damage to deal with.
The separatists’ spectacular departure from the moon, and subsequent travel toward the inner boundary of the solar system’s asteroid belt, had disheartened a world obsessed with finding out how that remarkable colony had remained hidden for four decades. How had a group of American blacks managed to carve out such a technologically advanced existence in such an inhospitable place?
The roll call of the lunar colony’s inhabitants, sent to the entire planet in a defiant screed against the racist deprivations of a culturally sick America, was pored over by every investigative branch of American law enforcement for years in an effort to find some clue as to how they developed their advanced technologies. The two advances they had demonstrated—the control of gravitational force and the retardation of the normal aging process in humans—were unknown on Earth. Once it became general knowledge that those former lunar inhabitants were gifted with a life span considerably longer than those on earth, the pressure to acquire that same boon became the rallying cry to beg, borrow or steal the technology from those in space.
Multinational corporations lusted after access to the gravity-based technologies exhibited by the Separatists, fully realizing the unspeakable wealth those same technologies would bring them once exploited on earth.
As in the past, when serious discussion took place about sending missions out to confront those who had settled outside earth’s reach in space, the jockeying had already begun to figure out how they could cash in on those missions, externalize their corporate risks, and internalize their own profits. There was no altruism present in the boardrooms of the biggest business concerns, whose influence and revenue crossed every border on Earth.
Global Space Technologies’ working relationship with NASA had a two-decade history, beginning with the announcement of the retirement of the NASA space shuttle program. As one of the top three private concerns qualified to provide logistical support to the International Space Station, GST was in the best position to exploit that relationship to gain the lead in the construction and deployment of the Jove spacecraft.
GST had been lobbying since the beginning of the project to have someone of their choosing included on the mission, trying to fill one of the four remaining slots that the U.S. government was jealously hoarding.
The logistics of building a spacecraft designed to keep a dozen people alive for two years or more were daunting, as was the selection process for a crew whose temperaments were psychologically suited to living in such close quarters for so long a time. If one were to become completely fed up with the rest of the crew, there was no house next door or a tavern down the street where they could go for a time out.
Fortunately, because of advancements in communications and entertainment, the Jove crew would have unlimited music, television and movie downloads to amuse them during the trip, as well as educational opportunities to occupy their time in space. Arrangements were being made for the Jove mission to be connected to the Internet throughout the mission, albeit protected by NASA’s firewall.
The construction of the Jove spacecraft engendered the largest simultaneous number of humans in space in NASA’s history, numbering over thirty several times during the project. Most of Jove’s components were prefabricated to be assembled in low earth orbit. Estimates
put this space effort at over $600 billion and climbing. However, there were billions in technology offsets that made the effort tenable for GST’s stockholders.
Once Jove was on its way to the belt, the temporary safety habitats and construction modules lifted into orbit to support the construction would be joined into a space station named SkyHub, whose size would dwarf the International Space Station. GST also had the contract for designing and building three identical lunar landers, designed to get those stranded Navy SEALs on the moon back into space.
The schedule for their retrieval was well over a year into the future, as all GST and NASA resources were being expended on Project Jove. But GST was looking at the opportunity to build its own lunar habitat and fleecing wealthy spaceman wannabes and the world’s space researchers with transport into orbit and to the moon. GST’s board was considering building hotel modules in orbit and on the moon for the “ultimate” space vacation.
The specialty, for which GST had recruited Patrick, was advanced propulsion systems for interplanetary spacecraft. His knowledge of ion and nuclear propulsion systems dated back to his obsession with rockets and NASA space programs, beginning with the Mercury program that launched John Glenn into orbit, to the now retired shuttle program. Patrick fell in love with America’s space program when, at the age of eleven, his parents took a vacation to Houston, spending an entire day touring the Lyndon B. Johnson Space Center.
Four years later, he convinced his parents to plan a Disney Epcot Center vacation with an all-day side trip to the John F. Kennedy Space Center. By then he was truly obsessed with the mighty rockets that propelled the Apollo hardware into the heavens. The Saturn V rocket was the most powerful machine built by man, a fact that fascinated Patrick and set off his love of propulsion systems.
Growing up a skinny teen, wearing glasses and obsessed with rockets, didn’t exactly excite the attention of the girls around him, but in his senior year of high school he found a junior named Ida who shared his interest in math and science. They also shared an interest in human biology, neither having had the opportunity of a steady partner before.
Patrick graduated a year earlier than his girlfriend, choosing to attend the California Institute of Technology which allowed him to stay at home with his parents for the first year while attending the university. When it came time for Ida to graduate, the two had the summer to spend together before she took off to attend Massachusetts Institute of Technology. They saw each other infrequently for a while, mostly during holidays when Ida traveled home. But soon their interests diverged and they broke up with a surprising lack of acrimony, both feeling fortunate for their brief time, and explorations, together.
Caltech, the academic home to NASA’s Jet Propulsion Laboratory, couldn’t provide Patrick with enough class and homework to keep him busy. He ate, slept and breathed science and space technologies, capturing several internships with NASA in the design and development of ion propulsion technologies. It was these systems that would power the manned interplanetary spacecraft from earth to any and all of the other bodies in the solar system.
As lead propulsion engineer of the NASA/GST development team, he envied the ease with which the discovered separatists were able to travel, manipulating gravity with frightful ease, lifting an entire city out of lunar bedrock and sending it out past Mars. But until someone at NASA or anywhere else on earth could replicate that technology, ion and nuclear propulsion were where the proverbial rubber met the road in interplanetary space travel.
When Patrick returned to the hotel, the first thing on his agenda was a long, hot shower to soothe away the fatigues and tensions of the day. Once he was warm, dry and in his bathrobe, he sat down and carefully went through the folder of homes Melody had given him. After examining the other four homes, he decided to take a look at a second house as well. It was a split-level ranch home, both front and back yards had large trees that sheltered the house from the sun and made for a visually pleasing property. He didn’t exactly admit to himself that the decision to check out the second house was equal parts buyer’s curiosity and the desire to spend more time with Melody.
With the decision made, he turned on the television, picking a classic 1950s science fiction movie, The Day The Earth Stood Still, to fall asleep to. He set his phone’s alarm to wake him at seven the next morning.
Chapter 3
WE CAN WORK IT OUT
“Mr. President, the Secretary General has arrived,” announced personal secretary Sandra Stevens over the intercom.
“Thank you, Sandy. Show her in.”
President Laughlin subconsciously tidied up the papers on his desk, putting two top secret folders in the top drawer of the desk. When the door opened, he got to his feet and met the secretary as she entered the Oval Office.
“Madam Secretary, it was good of you to stop by.”
“You know better than that, Stuart.”
“Gabriella, then. How was the flight in? I hear you have a meeting with the CEO of GST this afternoon,” he said. They gave each other pecks on the cheek. “Sit,” he said, offering her a place on the couch. “Can I get you anything, coffee?”
“Bourbon, neat.”
President Laughlin laughed.
“I just flew in from Brussels, my body clock says it’s way past noon,” she explained.
Once they were settled, President Laughlin started right in. “Is this about a UN ambassador joining the Jove crew again?”
“It’s not just me, Stuart. Ever since the disaster on the moon, trust in America to do the right thing with those people is nonexistent. And every time GST launches a supply rocket to feed those soldiers stranded up there, the whole world is reminded of your country’s failure in not only diplomacy, but the U.S.’s stereotypical cowboy tendencies. I needn’t remind you America’s stock isn’t too high these days.”
“And this is your personal assessment as well?”
“I didn’t say that. You know I have nothing but the utmost respect for you. However, this is not the time or place for your country’s go–it–alone mentality if you don’t want a repeat of President Bender’s blunder.”
“Actually, the landing of the SEALs was General Kamanski’s call. It was all his blunder, to use your term,” Laughlin rebutted.
“Actually, the blunder was to send soldiers at all, Mr. President.”
After a moment, Laughlin said, “Okay, I’ll give you that. But as much as that decision has damaged our country in the eyes of the rest of the world, it cannot be undone and all I can do is try to move forward with our friends and allies.”
“Then let the UN appoint an ambassador to the crew. Whomever we select will undergo whatever training NASA requires. I assure you that person will not be some sort of feckless dilettante. I assure you they’ll be required to pull their weight. By the way, has NASA decided whether the crew is going to be all male?”
“Nothing is definite yet. NASA has about thirty candidates for the mission, male and female. Training so many makes sense, given the nature of the mission and the possibility that one or more may have to be replaced because of illness or other factors. If you’d like, I can put you in touch with the Project Jove liaison, Paul Milton, as a favor to the UN,” Laughlin offered.
“That would be a nice courtesy, perhaps a tour for a small UN delegation, not of the spacecraft of course, but the facilities in Houston and your Cape Kennedy. But please take my suggestion about including a UN representative on the mission seriously. It would be a positive move on many levels,” she advised. “And let’s be brutally frank, it could provide you with some much–needed cover should things get all cocked up… again.”
The secretary got to her feet, with Laughlin scrambling to stand as well. As she led the way to the door, she turned and formally shook the president’s hand, and said, “Think about it, Stuart. As powerful as the US is, another disaster like what happened on the moon would do more
damage than your country could recover from. I would hate to see that happen on your watch.”
As the office door opened, Secretary Dimonaco turned to lightly peck the president on both cheeks and whispered quietly, “Just think about it, Stuart.”
As the secretary and her entourage made their way through the outer office, President Laughlin wondered why he hadn’t informed her that he had already made up his mind to include a representative of the United Nations for precisely the reason she had argued.
“Sandy, would you have Debra come to my office?”
“Right away, Mr. President,” she replied as he closed the door.
Five minutes later, Debra Dawkins, Laughlin’s chief of staff, and the White House’s first African American and female COS, breezed into the office.
“What’s up, boss?” she asked. “Just saw Madam Secretary on her way out. She still pushing for one of her staff on the mission?”
“Bingo. And I’ve decided to give in.”
Laughlin couldn’t help but laugh at the expression on her face. “Don’t look so surprised. Her logic for our doing so is unassailable.”
“I can imagine, but what about everyone else who’s going to be out to eat your lunch when it becomes known?”
“That’s a no-brainer. If we let everyone think that the UN is taking the lead on contacting those folks out there, we’re not directly holding the lightning rod this time. In almost every deal I try to cut with another country I end up sucking hind teat because of what happened on Bender’s watch. You know as well as I do we need a strong reversal of fortune with Project Jove if we’re to regain what we’ve lost in reputation this last decade. Speaking of which, where’s GST with that promised lunar lander technology?”
“Latest is that they’re about nineteen months from initial flight tests. They’ve been concentrating on Jove, same as NASA,” Dawkins replied.
“Exactly! And every day that those soldiers remain on the moon is a reminder of just how much former General Kaminski has cost this country in time, money and increased racial unrest,” Laughlin said angrily.
Confrontation Page 4