Zero-G

by Alton Gansky

  As Tuck fastened his seatbelt, the driver took his place behind the wheel. He seemed youngish and intense. Tuck also noticed the driver had a malformed ear.

  The drive to the Mojave spaceport took less than thirty minutes. Tuck watched the desert scenery scroll by as the car moved down a two-lane road. The sky still had a deep blue tint from the dark of the night before, and the air was cold, but thankfully, the previous night’s wind was gone.

  His years of life in the military, his training as an engineer, and his many years at NASA had given Tuck a disciplined mind. The moment the door to the car had closed, he compartmentalized his thoughts and the emotions that had churned up with his family. By the time the car had reached the street and headed toward its destination, Tuck’s mind had focused on the flight that would take place in less than six hours. He’d been through all the procedures before as part of his training. He had flown the simulators, and twice he had taken the craft to the edges of space. All of that would be the same, except this time he had passengers, and that made things different.

  As a NASA astronaut, he knew every member of the crew had signed up for the mission. He also knew that each had been highly trained, and each understood the risks they faced. Here things were different. Four untrained individuals would climb aboard Legacy , strap themselves in, and turn their lives over to three men. It was one thing to face the dangers of space flight for oneself, but it was an entirely different matter to ferry untrained people into an environment where a single mistake could lead to catastrophe. In many ways, he admired the passengers who were willing to undertake such a journey and paid so much money to do so.

  The driver turned the Lincoln down a private road. Tuck had traveled it many times since joining SpaceVentures. The road was arrow-straight, covered in fresh macadam, and normally desolate of all traffic. This morning there were at least a dozen cars in front of them, and Tuck turned to see an equal number following close behind.

  On one of Tuck’s earlier Shuttle missions, Mission Control had diverted them to Edwards Air Force Base for their landing. Bad weather had made a Florida landing impossible. When he and the crew exited the craft, he was surprised to see hundreds of people lining the roads, spectators who had come as close as possible to watch the Shuttle land. It pleased him to realize there were still many people who felt inspired by space travel. Still, seeing the line of cars on this road surprised him.

  “We seem to have rush-hour traffic this morning, Commander.” The driver turned his head only slightly when speaking.

  “Ain’t that the truth. And you can call me Tuck. No need for ‘Commander’ any longer.”

  “No, sir, I spent a few years in the Navy. Anyone above lieutenant deserves to carry his rank for life.”

  “Another swab, eh? How did you pass your time?”

  “Drove an admiral around. If you want to know anything about Washington, DC, restaurants, then I’m your man. I’ve driven to almost every one.”

  “I’ll remember that if I’m ever back in DC. So now you’re driving around a broken-down astronaut. How did you land this job?”

  “I applied for it. I grew up watching the space program and never lost my taste for it. When I learned about this, I did my best to get hired on.”

  “So this is a temporary job for you?”

  “No, sir. I’ve been hired to handle the transportation department. Mr. Roos thinks after today’s successful launch a lot more people will be signing up to fly. When someone pays a couple hundred thousand for a short trip, they deserve some decent transportation and a trustworthy driver.”

  “I didn’t know that.”

  “No reason you should, sir. You have more important things on your mind.”

  “I haven’t had much dealing with the business side of things. I focus on the flying.” Tuck rubbed his weary eyes and wished he had at least a couple more hours of sleep.

  “How big of a hurry are you in, Commander? You want me to pass some of these larger vehicles or just fall into step?”

  Tuck looked at his watch. “No rush. Take your time. We don’t want to run the risk of ticking off some potential passenger.”

  “Very well, sir. Just let me know if you change your mind.”

  “Will do.” Once again, Tuck’s eyes fell to the damaged ear on the right side of the driver’s head. “What’s your name? It doesn’t seem right calling you buddy or driver.”

  “The name’s Quain, sir. Edwin Quain.”

  “Well, Edwin, I’m just going to embarrass myself and be rude . . .”

  “You want to ask about my ear, is that it?” Quain turned his head to the side and Tuck could see the crumpled ear clearly.

  “Tell me if I’m too far out of line.”

  “Doesn’t bother me, sir. I’ve lived with it for a lot of years and told the story many a time. What’s it look like to you?”

  Tuck leaned forward. “I’m no expert, but it looks like a cauliflower ear — the kind of thing a man gets in the boxing ring.”

  “Exactly right. I picked up this little gem while doing some amateur boxing in the Navy.” He tapped the ear with his index finger.

  “Took a beating?”

  “A bit, but you should’ve seen the other guy. What about you, Commander? You do any boxing?”

  Tuck laughed. “I gave it a try during my third year at Annapolis but didn’t much like it.”

  “Didn’t like the sport or didn’t like the pain?”

  “Didn’t like the embarrassment. Got the snot beat out of me by some underclassman. I heard about it for the rest of the year, so I thought I’d save myself any future embarrassment and focus on my studies.”

  “I understand. It’s not everyone’s cup of tea. For me, I rather liked it. I never could figure out if I liked receiving pain or giving pain more.”

  The words struck Tuck as odd, and he tried to conceal his displeasure. He assumed he failed when he saw the driver’s eyes shift to the rearview mirror then say, “I’m sorry, Commander. It’s a boxer thing. I was full of vinegar then. I spent my younger days on the mean streets of Philly. The Navy was my way out.”

  “No need to apologize to me, Edwin.”

  “I just don’t want you to think I’m some kind of nutcase. You know how it is; some people get the wrong idea.”

  “Nah, it’s not the first time I’ve heard such things.”

  By big-city standards, the traffic on the road wasn’t much, but it was enough to bring things to a crawl. Tuck looked at his watch again. “Are you still willing to drive around this mess?”

  “Glad to do it. There’s no shoulder on the side of the road so I’ll have to drive in the oncoming lane. There shouldn’t be any cars coming this way. I’ll keep an eye out for fast approaching Greyhound buses and eighteen-wheelers.” He chuckled.

  “Thanks, I appreciate that. My kids tend to get a little upset when I return home all battered and bloodied.”

  “Yeah, that can be off-putting.” Quain pulled the Lincoln into the oncoming lane and accelerated.

  Off-putting? Tuck thought the driver’s conversation and vocabulary odd and a degree or two higher than he might expect from a professional chauffeur — not that a chauffeur couldn’t have a good command of the English language, but it still struck him as out of place.

  A few minutes later, they approached a gate manned by two uniformed security guards. The guards stopped each car and appeared to ask for identification and a printed pass. The other guard noticed the Lincoln in the wrong lane and moved to the other side of the gate, the one used for exiting, and lifted the cantilever barricade. Once the bar had reached its full height, he waved the Lincoln in.

  “How’s that for ser vice?” Quain gave a quick look over his shoulder and flashed a smile.

  “As good as it gets. I assume the car has an ID somewhere.” Tuck was relieved to be on the grounds; his mind churned with the preparation before him.

  “Yes, sir. I’m carrying a small transmitter that identifies me and the vehicle. That
’s why the guy didn’t stop us.”

  The driver pulled through the gate and turned on a long dirt path that ran behind several rows of parked cars, pickup trucks, and more motor homes than Tuck could count. Spectators gathered in clumps, parents held the hands of children, young couples walked hand-in-hand. From cars and motor homes poured the sounds of clashing music. To Tuck, it all looked like barely controlled bedlam.

  “Man, I didn’t expect this large a crowd this early.” Tuck’s head swiveled as he tried to take in the sight.

  “There were people at the gate before sunrise. By the time I left to pick you up there must’ve been over a hundred people present.”

  “Looks like they came ready for a tailgate party.”

  “They won’t get in your way, Commander. Security has confined them to this one area.”

  Quain drove slowly through the crowded area, occasionally having to break for careless pedestrians. The road led to two upright concrete posts set in the ground. The posts were twenty feet apart, and a thick chain hung between them. As they approached, a uniformed guard stepped into view, unhooked one end of the chain, and dropped it to the ground so that the car could pass.

  Free of wandering enthusiasts and cars looking for parking places, Quain pressed the Lincoln forward, making easy progress to the large hangar next to the administration building. The car stopped a few feet from the front door and Quain exited quickly to open the door for Tuck.

  “A man could get used to this,” Tuck said. “I don’t suppose you’ll be doing this for me every day.”

  “That would be up to Mr. Roos, Commander, but I doubt it.”

  “I appreciate the ride, Edwin. I can see why the admirals liked to have you around.” Tuck shook Quain’s hand.

  “Thank you, Commander. I’ll have the pleasure of returning you to the hotel when the mission is done.”

  “So what do you do now, Edwin? Do they have other exciting work for you?”

  Quain grinned. “I help with security. Sort of the plainclothes guy. A couple of hours from now, I’ll leave to pick your family up and escort them to the VIP staging area.”

  “Don’t let my daughter convince you that she can drive — or my son for that matter.”

  “No worries, sir. I’ll take great care of them.”

  Odd man. Tuck moved from the car to the hangar.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  Lance Campbell stood beneath the wing of Legacy, a large cup of coffee in his hand. The steam from the drink danced in the cool air of the hangar. As Tuck entered, he caught the cold gaze of his fellow astronaut. Dark eyes glowered at him from an even darker brow. He stood as tall as Tucker, but his shoulders were several inches wider, his arms thicker, and his temper thinner. The African-American gazed at Tuck for only a moment, then returned his attention to the sleek exterior form of the Legacy.

  Legacy hung in its launch position, suspended from the belly of Condor, its own underside hovering four feet above the concrete floor. The launch platform was better than twice the size of Legacy, and its bulk took up most of the hangar. To Tuck, Condor looked like a mother bird carrying one of its young for its first flight. Legacy could not take off without the help of Condor, which would carry it along the runway and high into the air. On its return, Legacy would extend its own landing gear and make its homecoming to Earth all on its own. The sleek, powerful-looking aircraft still impressed him. He doubted he would ever grow bored of its sight.

  Standing with Lance was a short man with gray tinted hair and facial lines that declared he had seen a great deal of life. Jim Tolson was a likable man, quick with a joke and a pat on the back. He spoke with a twang that revealed his Alabama upbringing. Jim served as the pilot for the Condor. Like Lance, he wore the custom-designed flight suit that Ted Roos had commissioned from a New York design firm: long-sleeved, dark blue, a half a dozen pockets on sleeves and legs, and a large flight patch over the left breast. The patch featured an image of a flying desert condor and a handful of stars. Above it, stitched in gold thread, were the words, “SpaceVentures. Legacy One, Seizing Tomorrow.”

  Tuck approached, his footfalls echoing in the cavernous hangar.

  “Good morning, gentlemen.” Tuck’s voice reverberated in the room.

  “Well, look who’s here all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.” Jim Tolson extended his hand and Tuck shook it. “You ready for today’s big to-do?”

  “I was born ready, Jim. What about you? I know you Air Force guys need a little extra time.”

  Jim laughed. “You just better hope I don’t remember that crack when we are more than fifty thousand feet above the planet. An old man like me might forget to flip the right switch or something, and where would that leave you?”

  “Taking over, as the Navy always does.” Tuck gave Jim a slap on the shoulder. The good-natured digs had become part of their friendship.

  “Then we’re all doomed.”

  Tuck turned to Lance and gave a nod. “Morning.”

  Lance made a point of looking at his watch. “Glad you could make it, Commander. I was preparing to make the flight by myself.”

  Tuck felt his jaw tighten. “As much as you would like that, Lance, you’re stuck with me. Once again I suggest we make the best of it.” He paused. “Or do I need to make that an order?”

  “You may have held a full grade more than me in the ser vice, but that carries no weight here.” Lance took a sip of his coffee as if he’d said nothing more than good morning.

  “Look, Lance, I know Roos recruited you before me and I give you some degree of seniority, but he chose me to pilot this mission, and I’m going to do it. His reasons are his own, and if you have a problem with that, then take it up with him.”

  Lance cast Tuck an icy stare. For a moment, Tuck felt the room chill. He took a step closer to Lance. “You’ve carried this grudge far too long. It’s your privilege to carry it as long as you wish, but I will not let it interfere with the mission, nor will I let it become a factor that may endanger the lives of innocent people. Lose the attitude, pal, and lose it now. When we’re back on the ground safe and comfy, you can choose to say whatever you want about me, but not until then. Clear?”

  This time Lance took a step closer to Tuck. Not more than two feet separated the men. Tuck kept his relaxed and poised stance, but Lance tensed, one hand clenched into a fist.

  Tuck held no desire for confrontation, but he had been selected to lead this mission and to do so properly required command authority and unquestioning obedience from those under his leadership — even if there were only two people answering to him.

  Jim Tolson stepped between them and put a hand on each of their shoulders. “Now look at you two, standing here all up in each other’s faces like two male elk buttin’ heads over some doe.” He lowered his voice, and Tuck felt the hand on his shoulder squeeze hard. “Take it easy, boys, and listen very carefully. Here’s the deal: you know as well as I do that any one of us can pull the plug on today’s flight. Those are the rules Roos set up. What that means is if I don’t think you two can get along well enough to make this flight a success, I can sink the whole thing right now. I’m hoping you won’t call my bluff, but don’t think for a moment I won’t do my job.”

  He lowered his arms and put his hands in his pockets. “Now, I’m not asking that you gentlemen sign up to send each other Christmas cards, but I am insisting that you put any bad blood in the past and leave it there — at least until everyone’s back on the ground. Understood?”

  Tuck nodded. “I’m good to go.”

  Lance pursed his lips, then said, “You’ll get no problem from me, Jim.”

  Lance took a step back and raised the coffee cup to his mouth, his eyes tracing every inch of Tuck’s form. Tuck knew that Lance would like nothing more than to go a few rounds with him. The copilot turned, started to walk away, then stopped and returned his attention to the two men. He looked at Tuck. “Roos wants us suited up and in his office in fifteen minutes to go over who’s going to say what
at the press conference. Time to get out of your civvies . . . pal.”

  Tuck surrendered a small smile. “I’ll be there with bells on.”

  Lance walked away.

  Jim let out a long, noisy breath. “For a moment there, I thought I was going to have to play referee. I don’t know what he has against you, but he’s carrying a pretty big chip on his shoulder.”

  “We’ve had problems for years. Even in the astronaut corps, he made a point of sitting at the far end of the table whenever we were in the same room. Now that rank doesn’t stand between us, he seems to feel freer to say what’s on his mind.”

  “Tell me true, Tuck, are we safe to go on this mission? I don’t want you guys coming to blows in the cockpit.”

  “Nothing to worry about, Jim. Lance can be a royal pain, but I’ve never known him to be anything other than professional on a mission.”

  “The question is serious. Would you put your mom on this flight?”

  “If she were alive I would, Jim. I’m not eager to die, and I certainly won’t let it happen over something as silly as hurt feelings. I’ve had all the crises in space that I want.”

  “All right, if you say so, but remember, once I cut the latches loose you two are on your own. You carry some pretty wealthy cargo in the back.”

  “They’re people, Jim, but I know what you mean. I also appreciate the way you handled things. I’m glad you’re riding topside for the first part of this mission.”

  “Glad to be of help. Now go get suited up.”

  The meeting with Roos started on time. Tuck and Jim walked over from the hangar to the administration building and joined Roos in his small office. Lance was already there and seated in the chair most removed from the door. Roos sat on the corner of his desk dressed in black pants, black belt, and a black shirt. Thrown over the back of his office chair rested a black blazer.