Skywave

by K Patrick Donoghue

  “Mr. Amato?” Mark said from behind.

  “Yes,” he said, turning toward Mark.

  “Dr. Pritchard is on the line. He said you were expecting his call.”

  Mark and Amato walked through the cavernous VAB until they reached a doorway connecting to Rorschach’s storage bay. There, they ascended in an elevator to reach the office level of the Mayaguana complex. Moments later, Amato was behind his desk, phone in hand.

  “Sorry for the delay, Dennis, I am here,” Amato said.

  “No problem, Augie. I just got back from the White House. Wanted to fill you in.”

  For the next several minutes, Pritchard recapped the situation as the president saw it, shared the gist of the statement the White House wanted to release and sketched the outline of the deal proposed to secure Amato’s cooperation.

  Amato listened without interruption. When Pritchard finished, Amato said, “So, let me make sure I have this right. In exchange for my support for the statement, and a promise to hold off any mention of the UMOs, NASA will agree to launch Rorschach and its crew when it is ready to fly.”

  “That’s right,” Pritchard said.

  While Pritchard’s presentation of the offer was couched in terms to make it appear substantial, it was an empty promise to Amato. Neither NASA nor the White House could guarantee their end of the bargain without congressional approval unless they opted to fund it through DoD’s “black budget.” While that was possible, it meant garnering the cooperation of the Pentagon to covertly launch the ship and crew.

  Plus, it was ridiculous to believe NASA wouldn’t jump at the opportunity to assist Amato without the agreement, especially if he publicly courted the Russians and Chinese as potential launch-partner alternatives. National pride would compel the White House, NASA, Congress and the Pentagon to cooperate, creating better leverage to launch on terms favoring Amato.

  “I don’t know, Dennis. The launch commitment feels too loose to me,” Amato said.

  “I understand. You’re right, there’s not much bite to it, but it’s the best we can offer,” Pritchard said.

  “And if I decline?” Amato said. He had no intention of declining, but he did have two more tangible concessions in mind he wanted in exchange for his cooperation.

  “Let’s not go there, yet,” Pritchard said. “Let’s take a step back and deal with this one piece at a time. Okay?”

  As Amato repositioned the phone to his other ear, he thought, let the negotiation begin! To Pritchard, he said, “If you insist.”

  “Do you have issues with the outline of the press statement?”

  “In general terms, no. But I’d obviously want to see a draft and provide input before it’s released,” Amato said.

  “Of course,” Pritchard said. “What about the UMO piece?”

  “That, I have stronger reservations about,” Amato said.

  “Okay, help me understand your concerns.”

  “I don’t like the idea of participating in a cover-up, for starters.”

  “Uh, forgive me for pointing it out, but aren’t you already part of it?” Pritchard asked.

  Pritchard’s comment was all too true. Amato was party to the suppression of both the existence of UMOs and the Cetus Prime tragedy. Had he stopped to think of the implications of his complicity at the time he was approached to build resupply probes for the Cetus mission, he would have declined participation. But he had been blinded by the opportunity to join the gallant deep space endeavor, viewing it as a new chapter in manned space exploration.

  “You’re right, Dennis. Let me rephrase. I don’t like the idea of perpetuating a cover-up. Not when there is more to be gained by acknowledging UMOs as a life-form, and by opening up further study of them to all scientists,” Amato said.

  “Noble reasons, for sure, Augie,” Pritchard said, “but listen. If you talk about the UMOs in the context of CUBE-1, it’s gonna scare the crap out of the general population. It’s going to feed their worst fears. If you don’t believe me, I’ll send you a picture of the pitchfork crowd outside our building right now. All we’re looking for is to put some space between you talking about CUBE-1 and NASA revealing UMOs.”

  “How much space?”

  “A year. Would prefer two, but we can live with a year.”

  “A year? That’s much too long, Dennis. If we talk about CUBE-1’s trip to the Moon, people will want to know how we did it. I’m not going to lie about our technology and suggest our engine was solely responsible for the achievement. We’ll look like charlatans when the truth comes out,” Amato said.

  Pritchard hesitated before responding. When he did speak, his tone was distant. “You realize any disclosure of the UMOs is prohibited by the Cetus NDA. You really don’t have a choice, Augie. I’d take the deal as offered.”

  Ah, playing hardball, are we? Let me show you how it’s done. “Dennis, I’ve known you for a long time. We’ve had our ups and downs, but I feel like we’ve always found a way to work through them. To the best of my memory, you’ve never threatened me before now, and I’m sure I’ve never threatened you. Personally, I’d like to keep it that way, wouldn’t you?”

  “I would, Augie, but it’s bigger than our relationship, unfortunately.”

  “I see,” Amato said. “In that case, I have no choice but to decline the offer.”

  Another delayed response from Pritchard. “They’ll close you down, Augie. Confiscate everything.”

  Amato glanced at his watch. Three hours twenty-six minutes to go.

  “Such are the risks of discovery, my boy,” Amato said. “A pity, really. I would have been willing to agree to a six-month delay under certain conditions, but it doesn’t matter now. You’ve made it clear our conversation is done. Be well, Den—”

  “Hold on, Augie,” Pritchard interjected. “I’m just the messenger here. I’m not authorized to negotiate with you. If you have a counter, I’d like to hear it. I’ll do what I can to get it in front of the president.”

  “I appreciate that, Dennis. Really, I do,” Amato said. “But I can’t imagine the president will be willing to bend far enough to get a deal done. You can tell him to issue his statement. We’ll let chips fall where they may afterward.”

  “Augie, come on! At least tell me what you want. Let’s not blow this whole thing up over a six-month cooling-off period,” Pritchard said, a touch of pleading in his voice.

  Amato paused before answering, to make Pritchard sweat. “Very well. You can tell the president I’ll pass on the Rorschach launch guarantee. I’ll accept a six-month wait on revealing the UMOs and I’ll defer to NASA to make the announcement. I’ll agree to the statement as you’ve outlined, provided I have the ability to review and comment on it before release. In exchange, I want two things.”

  “Okay, what are they?”

  “One: I want immediate access to all NASA research on the UMOs. As part of that concession, I want an audience with your current lead researcher, and don’t bother trying to tell me you’re not researching them.

  “Two: I want immediate access to all NASA and DoD Cetus Prime records, and a release from my NDA to discuss the mission with two people — yourself and Paul Morgan.”

  “Augie…there’s no way…”

  “Then inform the president I regretfully decline. Good-bye, Dennis.”

  Amato disconnected the call and tilted back in his chair. “Now, let’s see who wants to play chicken.”

  An hour later, Amato met with Dante, Kiera and Mark. Pritchard had not yet returned his call, a sign to Amato that the president was mulling his counterproposal, and possibly digesting Kiera’s phone call with Brock.

  “You will launch according to our revised schedule,” Amato said to Dante. “I will be on my way to San Diego before CUBE-2 launches, but I will be reachable by satellite phone, text and email. You are to provide me with updates on each launch. I will call you when I land in San Diego for a more thorough briefing.”

  “Yes, sir,” Dante said.

 
; Amato turned to Kiera. “If Brock calls back, delay responding until after all the CUBEs have launched. Hopefully, she will have gotten your message and spend the next several hours reviewing the HERTS team research. By the time she comes up for air, we’ll have all our birds in flight.”

  Kiera had gleaned the idea of her VLF engine from the work of NASA’s Heliopause Electrostatic Rapid Transit System team, the group investigating the viability of using an electric sail as a propulsion engine. The team had run into several technical glitches and a clash of competing theories that had slowed its progress in developing a prototype, allowing Kiera to sidestep the theoretical bickering to extract the most provocative elements of the HERTS team’s research into a novel design.

  “Got it,” Kiera said.

  Amato then addressed Mark. “If Dennis Pritchard calls, take his number and I will return his call from the plane.”

  “Yes, Mr. Amato.”

  To the three of them, he said, “Lock down the compound. No one in or out until all the CUBEs launch. If the Bahamians show up, or God forbid, the USAF pays a visit, stand down immediately. I don’t want any bloodshed. Back up everything to Orlando’s and Ascension’s servers before CUBE-2 launches.”

  He looked to Mark with one last instruction. “If worst comes to worst, release this statement to the media. Broadest possible distribution.”

  He passed Mark a handwritten note.

  “With luck, none of that will be necessary,” Amato said. “But if push comes to shove, and they try to shut us down, the whole world will learn NASA’s dirtiest secret.”

  10: SOL SEAKER

  Kona Kai Marina

  San Diego, California

  July 22, 2018

  Amato exited the office with a briefcase in one hand, a map of the marina slips in the other and the marina attendant’s instructions in mind. “See the walkway directly ahead? Follow it until it dead-ends, then hang a left and go all the way to the end. Sol Seaker is in the second-to-last berth to your right.”

  Looking up from the map, Amato squinted through the glare of the Sun to locate Cully’s boat from where he stood. It was easy to find. The boat occupying the slip number circled by the attendant was a large yacht, easily a hundred feet long and three decks tall. The longer Amato stared at it, however, the more he thought it looked like an ocean research vessel rather than a luxury boat.

  Above the uppermost deck was an array of satellite dishes, instruments and antennas reminiscent of those aboard The Rorschach Explorer, and the stern of the lower deck had a wide bay holding what looked like a docked Jet Ski next to a smaller boat. On each side of the bay, staircases led down into the water.

  As he followed the path highlighted by the attendant, Amato fretted about the vow of silence he was about to break. A vow he’d reaffirmed in a personal phone call with the president five hours beforehand.

  Amato considered himself a man of his word and it wasn’t a good feeling to commit to a six-month embargo knowing full well he intended to break that agreement before he even signed it. He felt justified in his decision, however, in order to protect the nine CUBEs that had made it into orbit. If the partial fleet was to make it to Callisto, it was vital to understand as much as possible about the UMOs before they set off.

  Arriving at Sol Seaker’s berth, Amato looked up at the imposing ship and thought once more of Rorschach. While admiring the yacht, his attention was diverted by the sight of a young woman in a pink bikini waving to him from the aft railing of the ship’s second deck. Her hair was colored blue and her body was dotted with tattoos.

  “Ahoy, there, matey,” she said with a smile.

  “Hello. Good morning,” Amato said, using the map to shield his eyes from the Sun hovering behind the woman. “I’m here to meet with Dr. Cully. I’m—”

  “I know who you are. Your face is all over TV this morning! How exciting!” she said. Pulling on a sheer white robe, she pointed to the starboard side of the boat. “Gangplank’s that way. I’ll meet you at the top.”

  “Okay, thank you,” Amato said. He stowed the map and ambled up the aluminum walkway, tugging the railing with one hand while carrying his briefcase with the other. When he reached the end of the ramp, he paused and smiled at the tall woman waiting for his arrival. “Permission to come aboard?”

  “Permission granted.” She extended her hand to help Amato step from the gangplank onto the boat. When he was safely on deck, she said, “Welcome, Mr. Amato. I’m Eleanor McCarver, Anlon’s companion.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Eleanor,” he said.

  “Likewise,” she said. “How was your flight?”

  “Hectic…but productive.” Looking around at the main deck’s pristine appearance, Amato said, “This is quite a ship.”

  “Yeah, it’s so unlike Anlon to buy something like this,” she said. “But we’re taking a trip around the world, and he didn’t want to try it in a sailboat or something smaller. Follow me, I’ll take you to Anlon.”

  “Around the world? I thought you were going to the Galapagos?” Amato said, trailing the barefoot Eleanor along the deck.

  “Well, we’re starting there but then hopping islands across the Pacific after that,” she said.

  “I see,” Amato said. “I’m fortunate I reached out before you set off. How soon do you leave?”

  “I dunno. Soon, I hope.” She halted at a doorway, then led Amato into the main deck’s apartment-sized cabin. They passed through a lobby and into a living room. Ahead, through an arched entry, Amato saw Anlon standing by another man, pointing at blueprints spread out on the dining room table. Eleanor whispered, “He’s finishing up a meeting with the captain. We’re kinda still in the process of outfitting the boat. Wait here, I’ll be back in a sec.”

  Eleanor ducked her head into the dining room and said, “A.C.? Mr. Amato’s here.”

  Anlon looked up and smiled. Dressed in floral Hawaiian shirt and board shorts, the sandy-gray-haired biologist excused himself from the captain and strode toward Amato, his flip-flops clacking across the teak flooring.

  “Well, if it isn’t the man of the hour in the flesh,” he said, shaking Amato’s hand. “How do you do.”

  “A bit disoriented, actually,” Amato said. “The last twenty-four hours have been a whirlwind. A lot of stress, not much sleep.”

  “I’ll bet,” Anlon said. “It’s not every day you go to the Moon!”

  As Anlon escorted Amato to the living room, he said, “Honestly, given the big news, I’m surprised you didn’t cancel.”

  “I’ll confess, I did consider rescheduling, but I didn’t want to miss the chance to meet with you,” Amato said, settling onto a leather armchair, his briefcase perched on his lap.

  Anlon and Eleanor sat next to each other on an opposing leather sofa and the three chatted while a steward appeared with pitchers of iced tea, guava juice and an assortment of light snacks. When drinks were poured and plates distributed, Anlon said, “So, Antonio tells me you’ve been quite a mentor to him.”

  “Oh, I’m sure that’s an exaggeration. He’s very accomplished, all on his own. We just chat from time to time. And he helps me more than I help him.”

  In between spearing slices of kiwi with a toothpick, Eleanor said, “Oh, that’s right. Your foundation! He was super bummed he couldn’t make it to your gala. And he’s always going on and on about your museum.”

  “Really? It’s nice to know he’s spreading the good word.” Amato smiled. “You should come visit the museum when you get back from your cruise.”

  “We’d love to,” Anlon said, looking toward Eleanor. Mouth full of kiwi, she nodded and gave a thumps-up. Anlon turned his attention back to Amato. “I have to tell you, I know you came here for a different reason, but I’m dying to hear how you pulled off your Moon visit.”

  “Yeah, same here!” Eleanor said, cupping her hand over her mouth to hide the food inside.

  Amato looked at their eager faces and weighed whether to redirect the conversation giv
en Eleanor’s presence. Anlon must have noticed his hesitance to answer. He said, “If we’re being too nosey, just say so. I’m sure it’s highly confidential. We don’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

  “No, no, it’s all right,” Amato said with a wave of his hand. “It is highly confidential, as you say, but in some ways, I can’t discuss what I came to see you about without getting into yesterday. It’s just that I’m cautious about how much I say.”

  He drifted a glance in Eleanor’s direction. She immediately interpreted the message conveyed by the gesture. “Oh, I’m sorry. I guess I am intruding.”

  She stood to leave, but Anlon reached out and clasped her hand. “Actually, Mr. Amato, I’d prefer that Pebbles stay. We’re a team.”

  “Eleanor,” she whispered to Anlon. To Amato, she explained. “Pebbles is my nickname.”

  “Is that so? Mine is Augie,” Amato smiled. Looking from one to the other, he said, “Look, I mean no offense. It’s just that I’m breaking an agreement I made with the president if I talk about yesterday. I worry about compounding the sin by discussing it with two people.”

  Anlon tugged on Pebbles’ hand and motioned for her to sit. “Well, Augie, I appreciate that, but as they say, in for a penny…”

  Amato laughed. “Yes, I guess that’s true.”

  “Besides, we’ll be out at sea shortly with no one to tell.” Anlon smiled. As Pebbles resumed her seat next to him, he said, “Seriously, though, you can count on our discretion, but if it would make you feel better, I can call Antonio. He’ll vouch for both of us, I’m sure.”

  “No, that won’t be necessary, I’ll take you at your word,” Amato said.

  “Thank you, you’ll be glad you did,” Anlon said, lacing his fingers with Pebbles’. “Now, why don’t we save the Moon trip for later. Let’s start with your questions for me. Something about how honeybees would react to a different magnetic field, if I understood Antonio correctly. You’re sending some bees into space and want to know how they’ll react to a changed magnetic field.”