The Orphan in Near-Space (The Space Orphan Book 2)

by Laer Carroll

  "Really, Mom," said Jane, grinning, as they drew apart. "Have some dignity."

  "Oh, pshaw, dignity, schmignity."

  Jane had never heard her mother use those words. She giggled.

  Her mother took the card from her and looked at it again. Then she opened it again to hear the same message. She got a serious look.

  "This man obviously knows how to push a woman's buttons. That makes him dangerous."

  Jane sobered. "I know. I only read a few teen romances, but did read some. And the sex-ed course in high school was about so much more than just sex. Dating relationships were just theoretical to me but I saw a few disastrous relationships play out then and at the Academy. One woman came close to suicide."

  Malena sighed. "It's a shame that something with so many wonderful possibilities can lead to the exact opposite."

  "'With great power come great' dangers," Jane said, deliberately misquoting the Spiderman mantra.

  "Should I reply right away? Wait a day? Three?"

  "Oh, those silly rules men make to hoard power to themselves and away from women. Call him now. Or whenever you feel like it."

  "I'll text him. Voice is too intimate right now."

  They set to finishing up the evening meal Malena had well begun. When Alex came in from a late meeting at CalTech they had dinner. He asked about her date.

  Jane described the dining setting and said they talked a lot about their teen years and the few afterward. And described their walk on the Pier.

  "Twice he apologized about talking about himself so much but I told him I'd shut down that subject when I wanted to hear no more of it. And until then to continue."

  "It's good to know some men have learned sense. Are you going to see him again?"

  She told him about the greeting card invitation and the upcoming Friday night party.

  "He must be serious if he wants you to meet some of his friends."

  Jane said nothing about the kiss but at lunch the next day her friends at work guessed.

  "Wow, girl," said Nicole. "You are coming up in the world. Dating billionaires no less."

  Kate said Jane should start thinking about how to handle paparazzi.

  <>

  Friday night Jane after dinner and a shower she pulled form-fitting blue jeans over her panties. They were softened from use but didn't have the frayed holes so popular in such pants. She turned the cuffs up about three inches and donned brown open-work sandals with a flat heel. Atop her feather-light bra she pulled on a green armless sweater with a turtle-neck top. She didn't bother with a jacket since the night was warm. Her only accessory was a small brown purse on a long strap.

  "Have a good time, dear," her mother called from her office.

  "I'll try, Mom, Dad. Good night."

  They wished her the same and she was gone.

  <>

  The guard at the entrance to the community of seven mansions or mini-mansions eyed her as Jane pulled up to the gate house and spoke into the microphone at car window height.

  "Jane Kuznetsov for Phil Newman."

  His voice, which she was sure was a recorded robot voice, said, "Welcome, Jane. Come in and park anywhere except in front of driveways."

  She thanked the robot voice and the gate slid out of the way. She drove in and to Phil's mansion. At 8:30 his driveway was already taken up by previous arrivals so she parked on the street nearby. She walked through the mansion's gate, opened rather than closed as usual. It was about a hundred feet to the shallow stairs up to his double door.

  They were open and he stood in them. When she got near him he leaned over and kissed her nearest cheek.

  "I'm so glad you came."

  "I said I would." She glanced back at the street beyond his gate. "Do the neighbors complain when so many people park on the streets?"

  "They did the first time. But then I invited them to all my parties. They get to meet some of the people they've only seen on movie or TV or web screens."

  "Smart."

  "It worked out. In fact, here are two of my neighbors. Hi, Janet, Julius."

  Jane turned to the middle-aged couple who were a couple of dozen feet behind her. Phil introduced her to them and vice versa and told the couple to have a good time. They went on in and Jane and Phil followed after.

  "What's the occasion?"

  "It's a mini wrap party. We just finished reshooting a few scenes from the spy movie we were working on when you and I met at the space station. The actors and the crew did a great job on the reshoot so I figured that was a good excuse for a second wrap party to treat them and to let you meet some of my favorite people and vice versa.

  "Now let me introduce you around."

  Jane on her own had a terrific memory but it would have been swamped by the number of people she met that night, even the first two dozen to whom Phil introduced to her. There were over fifty at the party (58 reported Robot). She had it memorize them and their appearance and assigned each some tidbit of information which could help her recall them when she came across the name again.

  Jane was having a great time. As interested in people as she was events like this were treasure troves.

  Mid-evening she eased into a group surrounding the director of the movie and its editor, both women. The director was 30 and so quite young for the job of managing a big-budget movie. The editor was perhaps twice the director's age but the two acted almost like friends from birth.

  When all of those surrounding the two women had drifted away Olivia, the editor, spoke to Jane.

  "And who might you be? You haven't said a word."

  "That's because I know little about movie making. I'm making up for that ignorance by listening to everyone."

  "What do you do?"

  "I'm a physicist and engineer."

  "Who do you work for?" The director was sharply focused on Jane.

  "The Space Force. Hello. I'm Captain Jane Kuznetsov." She offered a hand and the two women took it in turn to shake.

  "Ah, ha!" said the director. "I thought so. She's Newman's new bimbo."

  The editor eyed her young friend and chuckled. "I hardly think Jane here qualifies as a bimbo."

  The director spoke to Jane. "Sorry. It's just that anybody is a bimbo compared to his ex-wife."

  "Lola here was practically adopted by Hannah, the ex. She introduced Lola to Phil."

  "What happened between them? I read so many speculations when I researched Phil on the Internet."

  Olivia said, "You'd have to ask Phil. We're on the outside and anyway it's not our place to talk."

  Lola was not so circumspect. "I think it was just that they grew apart. Both are ambitious and somewhat workaholic. When the youngest kid left the nest for college they had little to hold them together."

  Olivia said, "What are you working on, Jane? That you can talk about."

  "It's something pretty esoteric. I wouldn't bore you with it even if I were allowed to. But in maybe six month's time we may get to go to the Moon."

  "Eww," said Lola. "No way I want to go there. All that grey landscape. And vacuum. And meteors. And having to stay inside all the time and wearing suits of armor when you do go outside."

  Everything she said was true but Jane could not feel that way. The Moon seemed to call to Jane though she knew that was an illusion. Still, it was more than just an emotional reaction. She knew exactly where the Moon was in relation to her. She could point to it if she chose: down THAT way and at THAT distance and at THAT velocity vector.

  They chatted more about Jane and what she did. Lola recalled that she'd "invented something big" and had lots of money from the something. Olivia said that was good: Jane wouldn't be impressed by Phil's money. Especially since (learning about Princess) Jane had her own private jet while Phil had to rent one to go any place fast.

  By midnight the party had dwindled to at least half its earlier numbers. People in an electronic game room and in the patio surrounding the pool had drifted back into the ballroom and eventually left.r />
  Jane had been watching someone with impressive skills playing the piano to one side of the ballroom in which the main part of the party had been held. The player, an older black man, finished a piece with a flourish and swiveled on the piano bench.

  "You look like you'd like to play. I'll turn it over to you if you'd like."

  "I prefer an electronic keyboard, thanks. And we don't have one here."

  "The devil's instrument. But Phil has one downstairs in his music room. Would you like to see the room?"

  Jane looked around but found Phil deep in conversation on the far side of the room.

  "Well..."

  "I'm Joe, by the way," the man said, standing and pushing the bench back to come around it. "Come on. He won't mind. I put the room together for him."

  The way to the music room was by Phil. The man touched Phil's shoulder as they passed, lifted a hand over his head, and made a downward pointing gesture.

  Phil's eyes flicked to Jane, who was clearly with the old man, and nodded before going back to his conversation.

  "Downstairs" was entered by an elevator though there was a staircase behind a door beside the elevator. They came out of the elevator to a carpeted hallway and lights which came on as the elevator door opened. She could see quite a distance both ways. The basement rooms must cover pretty much the entire base of the house.

  They turned right and passed by a large exercise room behind huge plate glass windows. In the dimness of the room Jane thought she saw the frosted glass of one side of a shower stall.

  Past it on the opposite side of the hall they entered a large room. The man stood still as the lights came on and let Jane take in the room.

  It was set up for a small orchestra. It included a conductor's podium and an array of chairs arranged in three arcs in front of the podium. Some of the chairs had a musical instrument standing in front of them or sitting on a stand. They were covered by a cloth. Others had a place for a musical instrument but were empty. Each station had a music stand in front of the chair.

  "I'm Gentleman Joe Johnson, Ms...?"

  "I'm Jane Kuznetsov."

  "Oh, yeah. 'Requiem' right?"

  "Yes."

  "Impressive work."

  Coming from him that was quite a compliment. He had been the conductor of the Houston Symphonic Orchestra before beginning to write music for the movie industry. He had several Oscars and other awards.

  "Thank you."

  "This is mostly my doing. Phil had just a big drum set, a professional version. That's it there."

  He pointed to the back left. It had several drums including one big one and several cymbal sets and other percussion instrument, all within easy reach of the chair. Next to it was a setup with several electronic keyboards surrounding a seat.

  Jane went to it and sat, examining the setup. She became JANE and flowed into the electronic keyboards, reflexively powering them up. A flick of a finger and the speaker system of the room came on. Another flick and lights came on in a windowed booth behind the podium and the mixing panels inside the booth came alive.

  Gentleman Joe settled in the drum chair and watched HER, a hand idly caressing the high-hat double-cymbal set.

  JANE barely noticed.

  HER hands flashing SHE set up over a dozen virtual instruments on the several keyboards and began playing all the instruments of a Nuevo tango tune by Carlos Liebedinsky, something simple: Plano Secuencia.

  SHE finished the four-minute piece with its usual flourish and came back to her purely biological self.

  Slowly clapping hands brought her attention down out of the cloud of music which still echoed in her head. The man beside her was clapping and it was not ironic.

  "Young lady, I've never seen a performance like that. Did you practice it for a long time?"

  "No. I just...play."

  "Remarkable. Would you be interested in a job?"

  "No, sir. I have one."

  "That's right. You joined the...Air Force, didn't you? Well, the world is a poorer place without you in it. Musically, of course. I'm sure it's a safer place with you in the military."

  Jane powered down the musical electronics in the room and in the mixing room, then stood, looking around.

  "What is this used for?"

  Joe stood too.

  "I have my own studio, but when I do the tracks for one of Phil's movies often the main people I'll work with come here with the director and me and experiment with different approaches. When we're done I'll go home and plan a schedule for performing the completed pieces and rent a studio which will hold a full orchestra. So Phil gets this room and the expenses for keeping it up as a tax exemption.

  "Well, it's getting late, young lady. I'd better get home to the wife. It was a pleasure meeting you. And if you want, the next time I do the sound track for a movie you could come along." He handed her a business card.

  "I'd like that."

  <>

  At JPL work went on, including Riku and Klaus filling out the force-shield proposal and Jane vetting it, doing little more than signing it in the slot under the ones for the men's names.

  Jane and Phil had dinner midweek followed by an hour at a salsa club, a drab place in the not-quite slum and not-quite gentrified Silver Lake area in East LA. It came alive that night, as it usually did, when an up-and-coming salsa band filled it with music.

  Jane turned down a few invitations to dance and spent most of the time pointing out to Phil some of the people and their moves. Most of the dancers were younger working-class laborers and students from nearby Occidental College.

  "I'd feel," he said, "so out-of-place among all these young people."

  Jane, sitting beside him, leaned into him and put her arms around his waist, hugging him with more than her usual fraction of her enormous strength.

  "You are perfect exactly as you are. I'd be bored with some raw young guy who thinks sophistication is ale rather than beer with his Sunday afternoon sports show."

  She slid her freer hand under his jacket and caressed his taut flat belly.

  "Besides I like your body just as it is."

  He pushed her hand away with a chuckle. "Keep doing that and I'm going to pull you into the restroom and lock the door and have my way with you."

  "Promises. Promises."

  <>

  On Sunday they dressed up in party clothes and had dinner at the Sportsmen's Restaurant in the Sportsmen's Landing hotel / shopping / dining complex in San Fernando Valley. This was a long east-west valley north over the Mulholland-Hollywood Ridge from Beverly Hills.

  Afterward they walked into the Sportsmen's Lodge Ballroom for the hour-long intro salsa class. Amid beginners like himself Phil lost his timidity and became enthusiastic about the dance, though Jane was sure much of his enthusiasm was stoked by the tight slinky purple dress she wore.

  When the after-class dance began they sat watching all the other dancers on the floor. Phil's concentration was not just on the dancing however. Jane noticed that he was watching the Latino band closely and leaning forward slightly.

  "Sticks!" he said suddenly, sitting back in his seat.

  "What?"

  "That guy with the sticks he's hitting together. They're the rhythmic...base...of the music."

  Jane reflected on the music theory she'd studied years ago. "Yeah. They're called claves."

  He listened intently for several minutes then his face relaxed. "Yeah, I hear it now."

  Then: "This music is more complicated than I thought when I first heard it. I like it."

  "This band is better than most."

  "You want to dance?"

  "Yes."

  "Let's get over there where not many people can see us," he said, nodding at one side of the dance floor which butted up against the stage. Like its opposite side the lighting there was a bit shadowed, not by much but perhaps enough to make him feel less on view.

  "OK."

  They danced for a half hour then returned to their table for a glass of win
e (for him) and iced tea (for her). They watched for another half hour to an hour, then retired back across the Ridge to tour his house.

  They began in the living room, easily reachable by an inside door to the house from the six-car garage. Right now it contained four vehicles: the blue Maserati sedan he'd driven for their trips across the Ridge, her Porsche, a silver SUV, and a battered pickup truck.

  The living room was of moderate size but had a high ceiling, all painted in a pastel butter yellow with a darker golden carpet. It had a conversation nook made up of a couch, two easy chairs on each side to form a U, and a glass coffee table in the focus of the U. Across from the seats was a free-standing big-screen TV with several black boxes underneath it containing various electronics.

  The kitchen was big and modern with a free-standing preparation table large enough for a sink. To one side was a large pantry. There was a table in the kitchen which would seat six. Accessible from the kitchen was a larger dining room which would seat four or five dozen people.

  The rest of the first floor included the ballroom where he'd had the party on Friday, the electronic-games room, a large office, and a small theater where a couple dozen people could watch films.

  "This is a working room pretty much. Here we watch a copy of the final cut of most movies I produce. It's something of a dress rehearsal, in that I, the writer, the director and second-unit directors, the cinematographer, and the editor watch it. Occasionally we decide it needs one final editing pass to fix minor problems before finalizing the project. Very rarely we decide we need to reshoot a scene or three. That's what happened on the spy film which was the reason for Friday's second wrap party."

  "So a lot of this place is really a business expense. Your home is not just totally luxury or ostentation."

  "Oh, I love the luxury. But you're right. A lot of the size is practical. The exercise room in the basement saves me from an hour round trip away from here. As does the pool and the tennis court. I have a regular exercise schedule. I found out long ago that I needed to keep fit to do all the things I want to do.

  "Do you play tennis, by the way?"

  "I can, but I don't. I prefer team sports like soccer. I love how we all come together to get a job done. Besides, against one person I always win."