by Alton Gansky
On the outside, Roos gave every indication of being calm and collected. But his eyes flashed, and his words poured out in a torrent.
“The engineers have worked through the night checking everything from top to bottom,” Roos said. “They told me they have every confidence that things will go as planned. Legacy and Condor are as good as we can make them, and today we put them to the real test.” He stood and paced the small room. “This is what it’s all been about, gentlemen. This is what I have spent millions on, this is what I have collected millions in donations for. We are on the leading edge of the future, and I want all of you to know how much I appreciate your work. Each of you has brought to the project what no one else could. I don’t know how to express my gratitude.”
Jim raised a hand as if he were a schoolboy. “I could use a new yacht.”
Everyone but Lance laughed, and even he cracked a smile.
Roos leaned over the desk. “In a few minutes, guys, the media will come through the doors of the hangar and see for the first time what Condor and Legacy are all about. They will see the future of spaceflight. They will see the birth of a new industry in the commercialization of space, and they will have lots and lots of questions. I can think of no better men to give answers than you three. Here’s how we’ll play this: In precisely twenty-three minutes, I will bring in the media as a group. We have people from the major networks, radio stations, print media, and news magazines. We even have representatives from several nations here.
“I understand that you were in the hangar not long ago, and if so, then you saw the staging area where the press conference will be. Once the media has had time to shoot footage, take pictures, and jot down notes, I’ll gather them in the seating area that we’ve provided. I’ll say a few words, and then I want each of you to say a little something. Keep it short and to the point. Think sound bites. Small sentences.”
“Dumb it down, you mean.” It was Lance.
Roos shook his head. “Not at all. I would avoid high-end jargon; just speak as you would anywhere else. After that we’ll throw it open for questions.”
“What about the passengers?” Tuck wondered.
Roos smiled. “I plan to bring them in after the media has had an opportunity to ask their questions of you. I’ll introduce each one and then ask if there are any more questions. Of course there will be.”
Tuck asked, “How are our passengers doing? Anyone trying to back out?”
Lance answered quickly, “They are more resilient than you give them credit for, Commander. I was in charge of training them, and each one has shown a high degree of intelligence and courage. They will be nervous, but I doubt we’ll have any screaming fits or panic attacks.”
“That’s good to hear,” Jim said. “But then again it’s not really my problem. I ride up alone and I ride back alone — just the way I like it.”
“I didn’t realize you were so antisocial, Jim,” Tuck said.
“I’m not antisocial; I’m just . . . well, antisocial.”
Roos took charge again. “I will make sure that the press conference is over no later than eleven o’clock. After that, it’ll be time to go through last-minute preparations with the passengers, then on with the flight suits. As planned, you’ll enter the vehicles while they are still in the hangar and be towed to the runway. None of that is news to you since we’ve covered this repeatedly. I want to reiterate, however, that the tow to the runway will be slow. I want to give the media all the time they need to photograph the event. You know all the checks you need to do during that time, so use the minutes wisely. It will also give the chase planes time to get in position. As you know, cameras will tape everything, inside and out. I know I said this a thousand times, but we are making history here, and I want every moment digitally recorded.”
Roos leaned back and sighed as if he had just run out of gas. He rubbed his eyes.
“When was the last time you slept?” Tuck asked.
Roos shrugged. “I don’t know — a day or two or three ago. It doesn’t matter; I’ve gone longer without sleep. Besides, after the press conference, I don’t have anything important to do but watch.”
The man had poured his heart, his soul, and his considerable wealth into the project. Yet Tuck sensed something different about Roos. In the halo of enthusiasm and excitement, Tuck thought he sensed doubt.
“Is everything okay?” Tuck asked.
“He’s already told you that the engineer stayed up all night checking the systems out,” Lance snapped.
“I’m not asking about the vehicles, Lance; I’m asking about the man himself.”
Roos raised a hand and gave a dismissive wave. “Everything is fine, great, couldn’t be better. I’m just a tad tired while at the same time being as excited as a kid at Christmas. I have longed for this day since I was in elementary school and now it’s here. I can scarcely believe it.”
“Just checking,” Tuck said. “Just checking.”
When the hangar doors opened and select media rushed in, Tuck heard gasps and exclamations. It reminded Tuck of something out of a film noir where the press descends upon the site of a murder like swarming flies. Camera flashes blinked in the hangar, video cameramen vied to get the best possible shot, print media reporters held digital recorders close to their lips and spoke in bursts. He couldn’t blame them. Tuck had flown some of the best and most impressive-looking jets the Navy had, and piloted what may be one of humankind’s greatest achievements, the Space Shuttle, but every time he saw Condor and Legacy he felt a wave of pride.
The reporters shot pictures at various angles and talked among themselves, held at arm’s length from the vehicles by a thick nylon belt strung between a series of black anodized metal posts.
“Wow,” Jim said, “would you look at that. I have three hunting dogs back home and that’s exactly how they eat food from a bowl.”
“And how did you feel the first time you got close to a fighter jet?” Tuck was feeling some of the excitement himself.
“Now that you mention it, pretty much the same.”
The two stood well back of the reporters and gave them room to do all the sightseeing. Lance stood next to Roos on the other end of the hangar, still maintaining his distance.
Fifteen minutes later, Roos stepped to the microphone of the makeshift briefing area and called the reporters to their seats. He had to make the call four times. He waited patiently as media personalities took to their chairs and as cameramen set up their equipment and lights. Once certain that everyone was ready and that the tools of their trade were in place, he began the press conference.
“On behalf of SpaceVentures and all who believe that we should be a space-faring people, I thank you for being here. Today marks a new era in the history of space flight. Today we will send into space not trained astronauts, not test pilots, but everyday people.”
Tuck thought the phrase “everyday people” was a stretch. Only a handful of individuals could afford the price to fly in space the way these four were about to do. Fewer still were those who can claim to be starlets, multibillionaire investors, or a high-ranking member of the government. Only the pool reporter could be considered ordinary in the sense Roos used the word.
“For the last few minutes you have been looking at my life’s ambition. I’ve made a great deal of money in business, and with every achievement my hunger to see space travel made available to the citizens of this country, indeed of this world, has been the driving force of my life.”
Roos continued his speech for an additional ten minutes, and it came across as sincere and heartfelt as any Tuck had ever heard. Roos also followed his own suggestion, breaking long sentences into short ones, each capable of being a sound bite on the evening news or the lead to some article.
Tuck jiggled his leg then caught himself, forcing the leg to be still. He was getting eager. The thrill of space flight was just minutes away. Soon he and Lance would be strapped in the Legacy, and behind them four people were about to experie
nce the flight of their lives. For Tuck, the time couldn’t arrive soon enough.
Tuck stole a look at his watch. He imagined that the driver with the damaged ear — what was his name again? Edwin Quain, that was it — would be leaving soon to pick up his family and drive them to the launch. He wondered how they were doing. He felt the urge to pray for them and offered a short, silent prayer.
After Roos finished his speech, he called Tuck to the lectern to say a few words. Tuck said very little, choosing just to thank his family and Ted Roos for the opportunity to fly in space in a new and innovative way, and that he hoped others would catch the same dream. Lance stepped to the podium next, where he thanked the Navy and NASA for his training and SpaceVentures for a wonderful opportunity. Jim’s speech was so short as to be almost nonexistent. He clearly didn’t like speaking before groups.
“We have a few minutes for questions,” Roos said. “Please address your question to whomever you wish.”
A reporter who didn’t identify himself asked, “Will we get to meet the passengers?”
“Absolutely,” Roos answered. “Being engineers of one stripe or another, we thought this approach would cause less confusion.”
A man in the back raised his hand. “Are you doing this with NASA’s approval?”
Roos chuckled. “This is purely a commercial venture; we don’t need NASA’s approval, but they are well aware of what we are doing. As you know from your briefing packets, our lead astronauts formally flew for NASA.”
A man refused to yield the floor. “What can you offer that NASA can’t?”
“A great many things. Those who follow the workings of NASA, and space exploration in general, know the organization is returning to an emphasis on what they call HSF — human space flight. Most of NASA’s work in recent decades has been in orbital work, the Space Shuttle and International Space Station being the most obvious achievements. Now they have renewed their focus on the Moon and on Mars, and we wish them well in that endeavor. Our goal is to make suborbital flight and later orbital flight more effective, cheaper, more frequent, and available to more people. We believe that NASA will be one of our greatest clients.”
A woman stood holding a digital recorder. “Jennifer Ray of the Los Angeles Tribune. According to my research, the commercialization of space is a highly competitive work. What separates you from the others?”
“It depends of which competitor you speak. Some in the field are not interested in manned space flight but rather the delivery of cargo and satellites into space. There are others, however, who are direct competitors. They too want to carry passengers into suborbital journeys, and I admire every one of them. In fact, we are indebted to the many that have gone before us, and whose work has opened doors for our own efforts. We made it our goal to be the first to send a group of paying passengers into near orbit. We’re not the first to send a civilian into space, but we will be the first to do so on a regular basis. Other firms will follow because that is the nature of business in the United States.”
A man raised a hand and Roos called upon him. “Bobby McNeil with AP. I have a question for Commander Tucker. Has the tragedy you experienced in last year’s Space Shuttle mission affected what you do here today?”
Tuck rose and approached the podium and leaned toward the mike. “No.” He stepped back.
The AP reporter was not satisfied. “That’s all you have to say?”
Tuck again approached the microphone. “Yes.”
Roos gave him an odd look and Tuck relented.
“I don’t mean to be glib. I lost five friends in that tragedy and not a day goes by that I don’t think of them. Space travel is inherently dangerous, but then again so is air travel. I mourn the loss of my crew . . . of my friends, but I can think of no better way to honor their deaths than to fly in space again. They died proving that space is a worthwhile goal, and whether we reach it because of the efforts of the government, or the efforts of fine, forward-looking men like Ted Roos, it is important to understand that the benefits are worth the risks.”
The questioning continued, longer than Tuck thought it should. Finally, Roos called for the passengers.
TWENTY-SIX
Tuck had little remorse when the news conference was over. He had spoken to the press often, granted countless interviews, and been seen on television scores of times, but he had never grown accustomed to the attention. Every time some reporter held out a microphone or digital recorder, Tuck felt like an amoeba beneath a microscope lens.
As promised, the four passengers were ushered in and given a short time to speak to the press. The reporters were unleashed to do their work. Roos did a masterful job of keeping the questions on target and not letting things get out of hand. Twenty minutes later, Roos invited the media to leave, encouraging them to take their places in the media viewing area.
“Well now, wasn’t that fun?” Roos seemed almost giddy. “All in all, I think the press conference went well. These things can turn into a circus.”
“I’m pretty sure I saw a couple of clowns.” The press conference had not removed any of Jim Tolson’s wit.
“Watch it.” James Donnelly used the same tone as Jim. “Remember, I represent the fourth estate.”
Tuck turned to the man and saw an individual of polished good looks, dark hair, and a strong chin. His eyes looked slightly red, and Tuck guessed the man had slept no more than he had. “Jim is just having fun with you. I know for a fact that he used to want to be a reporter himself.”
Jim coughed.
There was light laughter and Tuck used the time to look at the other passengers who’d gathered into a small clique. Each had been dressed in the same jumpsuit-style flight garb that he, Lance, and Jim wore. Although they stood close, it was easy to see that they were not a unit; each had erected invisible walls.
Roos directed them to another corner of the hangar where hung a tall white curtain. During the press conference, he had seen people moving in and out of the area and had a good guess as to what lay beyond the drape. Pulling back the separation, Roos led the group to tables covered with finger foods and delicacies.
“How sweet, a bon voyage party.” Other than the three-minute spiel given at the press conference, these were the first words spoken by Ginny Lin.
“Nothing but the best for the first passengers of SpaceVentures.” Roos moved behind the table that held the champagne and pulled a bottle from a chilled holder. “Help yourself to anything you see. These next few moments we have to ourselves. I figured we needed time to get to know one another.”
“Oh, I get it,” Jim said, “this is a launch-lunch.”
Several people groaned.
“Will I have to hear bad jokes like that throughout the whole trip?” Burke took a chocolate-covered strawberry and popped it into his mouth. Judging by his expression, it met with his famously high standards.
“Nah, he’s just the elevator,” Lance laughed.
“Careful, now. You may just hurt my feelings and then where would you be?”
Donnelly circled a table scrutinizing the spread of food. He tried one of the sandwiches. “Not bad. Crab salad.”
Lance said, “I don’t want to be a killjoy, but remember, you’re going to be flying in space very soon, so you might want to go light on the food. I imagine it’ll all be here when we get back.”
“I have something better planned for when you all get back,” Roos said. He threw a small white towel over the neck of a champagne bottle and began to twist the stopper. A second later, a loud pop echoed through the hangar and champagne foam flowed from the opening. He poured generous amounts of the fluid into five glasses, then handed one to each of the passengers. Before taking his own glass, he opened a bottle of sparkling cider and filled three flutes, which he gave to Tuck, Lance, and Jim.
“What, no bubbly for the pilots?” Jim tried to look dejected, but failed to pull it off. He knew the pilots wouldn’t take any even if Roos had offered.
“There are plent
y of bubbles in this,” Roos said. “No alcohol for you until you get back.”
After everyone received a glass, Roos held his in the air and with obvious pride said, “To the pioneers of yesterday which made today possible; to the scientists and engineers, who gave of their time and skill; to the pilots who take us aloft; and to the passengers who make all this worthwhile.”
A chorus of “hear-hear” followed.
Tuck turned his attention to the secretary of state. “I’m curious, Mr. Secretary, what did you have to do to make the president agree to this?”
“You make it sound more difficult than it was. I feel safer on this trip than most I’ve made over the last year.”
“So you just explained it to him and he went along, is that it?”
Burke laughed. “I’d be lying if I said it was that simple. None of that matters now. I’m here and ready to rock ’n’ roll.”
“Rock ’n’ roll?” Ginny Lin looked surprised. “I didn’t think you government types talked like that.”
“I grew up listening to Jimi Hendrix, Ms. Lin. I know how to rock with the best of them.” He paused for effect. “I just move a lot slower when I do it now.”
The comment made her smile.
Donnelly turned to her. “Ms. Lin, I know why Secretary of State Burke is here. I know why I am here, and I even know why Mr. Abe is here, but for the life of me I can’t figure out why a young woman like you, who is at the pinnacle of her career, would want to be one of the first ones to fly in a commercial space vehicle.”
“I’ve always wanted to fly in space,” Ginny said simply. “Even as a child, I felt the world’s greatest adventure would be to fly higher than anyone else.”
Daki Abe joined the conversation. “I imagine we all have more than one reason for being here, but I also imagine we all share one motive: to do what few others have done. I for one am here for the thrill, the experience, and to see where some of my hard-earned dollars went.”
“Happy so far?” Roos asked.
