Power Failure

by Ben Bova

  Lovett jumped in, “Then the White House will be yours, Frank. No problem.” Grinning encouragingly, he added, “You won’t even need me to manage your campaign.”

  With a sigh, the senator quoted, “Yes, isn’t it pretty to think so.”

  * * *

  By the time Jake got back to his suite at the Courtyard hotel it was well past one a.m.

  Tami was wide awake, sitting on the living room sofa in velvety pink pajamas, watching a pair of network news analysts—one male, one female—rehashing the convention’s votes and speeches.

  She jumped to her bare feet as Jake came through the door.

  “So how did it go?”

  “How did what go?” Jake asked.

  “Your meeting with Sebastian’s people.”

  Jake stared at his wife. He hadn’t mentioned a word to her about the meeting.

  “How’d you know—”

  Tami smiled knowingly. “I’m a newswoman, remember? I find out what’s going on.”

  “It’s supposed to be a secret.”

  She shrugged. “I can keep my mouth shut … for a while.”

  Suddenly feeling tired of the whole business, Jake plopped down on the sofa. Tami sat beside him.

  “Come on, give,” she urged.

  Puffing out a sigh, Jake said, “Frank’s taking the number two slot, telling his supporters to back Sebastian for president.”

  Tami’s eyes went wide. “He’ll accept the vice presidency?”

  “He’s not happy about it, but he’ll do it. Sebastian’s promised to support the space plan.”

  “What a story!”

  Leveling a finger at her, Jake warned, “Not a peep about this. Sebastian’s people will announce it to the delegates at tomorrow morning’s session.”

  “Can I interview Frank?”

  “Tomorrow.”

  “No! Tonight! Right now!”

  “In your pajamas?”

  “Come on, Jake. This is news!”

  Jake shook his head. “No. Frank’s very upset about this. He thinks he’s let his father down.”

  “I guess he does.”

  “The important thing is that Sebastian will back the space plan,” Jake repeated.

  Tami went silent for a moment. Then, “So you’ll be staying in Washington.”

  Jake nodded and heard himself say, “And I want you to stay in Washington with me.”

  Her eyes widened.

  “I’ve spent enough time without you. I hate it. I want us to be together.”

  Very softly, Tami replied, “So do I, Jake.”

  “I want you to leave KSEE and come back to me,” he said. It was the hardest sentence he had ever uttered.

  Tami nodded. “I’ve spent a couple of months without you. I don’t want to live that way.”

  Jake stared at her. “You’ll come back to Washington?”

  “Yes.”

  All the air gushed out of Jake’s lungs.

  “I love you, Tami.”

  “And I love you, Jake.”

  He wrapped his arms around his wife and they clung to each other for long, long moments.

  Give and Take

  Jake whistled in the shower and hummed to himself as he shaved. Tami’s coming back to me! He marveled at his stupendously good fortune. For her part, his wife remained in bed, snoring lightly. Jake grinned at her as he dressed.

  It wasn’t quite seven a.m. but Jake figured that Tomlinson would be up and around, so he left a note telling Tami where he’d gone, then hustled out into the empty, quiet hallway and up the elevator to the senator’s suite.

  As he expected, Tomlinson was awake, shaved, and dressed in a dark pinstripe suit: Washington working uniform, Jake said to himself.

  The senator opened the door himself, looking a little bleary-eyed.

  “Oh, Jake,” he said, sounding surprised. “I thought it was breakfast.”

  “Am I too early?” Jake asked.

  “No … no,” said the senator. “Come on in. Keep it quiet, though: Amy’s still sleeping.”

  The suite’s living room looked perfectly in order, but quiet, empty. Even the TV was silent, dead.

  As he stepped across the sitting room to the big sofa across the handsomely patterned carpeting, Jake began, “Frank, I’ve never asked you for a favor before—”

  The doorbell buzzed softly.

  “Must be breakfast,” Tomlinson said. “Can you let the guy in, please?”

  Jake realized that the senator was depressed. Or maybe he just hasn’t had enough sleep. It’s still kind of early.

  Sure enough, a waiter was standing out in the hall with a rolling cart bearing breakfast for two. Jake let him in while Tomlinson sank onto the sofa in silence.

  “Just leave it here,” the senator told the waiter, before he could start uncovering the dishes.

  Jake signed for the meal, adding a decent tip, and the waiter left.

  “You had breakfast yet?” Tomlinson asked.

  “No, I came up here. I need to ask—”

  “Help yourself,” the senator said, with a nod to the breakfast cart. “I’m not hungry.”

  Jake sat himself next to Tomlinson. “What’s the matter, Frank?” he asked, knowing what the answer would be.

  Tomlinson buried his face in his hands. “Vice president,” he mumbled.

  Trying to lighten things, Jake said, “It’s better than a sharp stick in the eye.”

  “Not much.”

  “Come on, Frank. You’ll be running the space plan, turning our dreams into reality.”

  “My father’s dream was for me to be president.”

  “So you won’t make it this time around. You’ll have plenty of opportunities—”

  “I failed him,” Tomlinson said, mournfully. “I let my father down.”

  Jake had expected the reaction. After all these years, after all Frank’s achieved, Alexander Tomlinson was still pulling his son’s strings.

  As gently as he could, Jake replied, “Frank, your father would be proud of you. Vice president of the United States! You’ll be the next president, after Sebastian.”

  “No,” Tomlinson muttered. “This is the end of my road.”

  “It’s only the beginning,” Jake insisted. “For god’s sake, you came out of Montana a total unknown here in Washington. You’ve made a name for yourself, you’re a nationally recognized political leader.”

  “Who’s settled for vice president. That’s not what he expected.”

  Getting close to exasperation, Jake snapped, “Frank, your father is dead. You’ve got to stop letting him run your life. You’ve got to cut the umbilical cord.”

  Tomlinson smiled wanly. “The umbilical cord connects to the mother.”

  Ignoring that, Jake went on, “You can outshine Sebastian any day of the week. You’ll be directing the space plan! You’ll be guiding our return to the Moon. A whole new era will begin, under your direction.”

  With a meager shake of his head, Tomlinson said, “No, Jake, it’ll be under your direction. I’ll be just a figurehead.”

  “If that’s what you want to be.”

  “I want to be president.”

  “Then do a good job as vice president and you’ll get to the White House. You can’t miss!”

  “I missed this time.”

  “Then try again!”

  “In eight years.”

  “In a hundred years, if necessary. In a good cause there are no failures, Frank. Only delays.”

  Tomlinson stared at him. “My father—”

  “Your father’s dead and gone. It’s time for you to decide what you want to be when you grow up.”

  Tomlinson blinked several times. Then, “Christ, you sound just like him.”

  Oh god, Jake moaned inwardly. Am I going to become a father figure to him?

  “Jake, what I want to be is president.”

  “Then start along that road now, right now, today. Join forces with Sebastian. Help him win the White House in November and st
art us on the road to the stars. So you don’t make it to the presidency this time, you’ll be the next president, after Sebastian.”

  “You think so?”

  “Yes!”

  “Eight years is a long time.”

  “Not if you’re busy. Not if you’re directing our return to the Moon.”

  “I’ll need your help for that, Jake. I’ll need a lot of help.”

  “You’ll get it.”

  The beginnings of a real smile stole across Tomlinson’s handsome face.

  “With my looks and your brains,” he muttered, “we can do it.”

  “Damned right.”

  For several moments the senator was silent. Then he nodded at the breakfast cart. “Let’s dig in. Pat’s going to be here at eight sharp.”

  Jake held up a hand. “First, I’ve got to ask you for a favor.”

  “A favor? For you?”

  “For Tami. She needs a job at one of the local TV outlets. Anchorwoman.”

  “Earl ought to be able to work that out.”

  “For you. When I asked him he put me off.”

  “I’ll talk to him about it. And I’ll put in a word here and there. We’ll get her situated, one way or the other.”

  “Thanks, Frank.”

  Grinning, Tomlinson said, “Give and take, that’s what politics is all about.”

  “I’m taking,” Jake said, “but I haven’t given you anything.”

  “The hell you haven’t,” Tomlinson said, reaching for the breakfast cart. “Give and take. We’ll make a politician of you yet, Jake.”

  “God forbid!”

  Facing the Future

  The convention center literally rocked from the thunderous applause of the delegates. All of them, from all fifty states and the various territories, women and men, whites, blacks, browns, were on their feet pounding their hands together and yelling, whistling, cheering as Tomlinson and Sebastian stood on the podium, clasped hands raised high in the air, beaming smiles at the roaring auditorium.

  The noise hurt Jake’s ears, even though he was on his feet, too, yelling as loud as he could.

  The ovation seemed to go on for an hour. At last the convention chairman, his bald head beaded with perspiration, started rapping his gavel, calling for order. It took a while, but ultimately the delegates quieted down and retook their seats.

  The chairman bellowed into the microphones arrayed on the lectern in front of him, “I move that we nominate the Sebastian-Tomlinson ticket by acclamation!”

  The crowd exploded again into cheers and applause.

  It’s done, Jake said to himself. Sebastian for president, Tomlinson for vice president.

  The crowd settled down again and Sebastian stepped forward to give his acceptance speech. It was dignified, optimistic, and ended with, “And we will win in November, never doubt it!”

  Turning from the microphones, Sebastian reached out smilingly to shake Tomlinson’s hand, then stepped back to allow him to accept his nomination.

  His brilliant smile back in place, Tomlinson looked over the rows and rows of expectant delegates. The huge auditorium fell absolutely silent.

  Then he began, “This is the beginning of a new era. The American dream—alive, vital, glowing with promise—is expanding beyond the confines of Earth. We will lead the way into space, to the Moon and beyond. The dream will become reality, and a new generation of Americans will lead the way for all the peoples of Earth to reach new heights of freedom, and prosperity.”

  And Jake realized that B. Franklin Tomlinson had at last broken free of his father’s hold on him. He’s going beyond anything the old man could envision. He’s his own man at last.

  * * *

  The next few days were a blur to Jake. He hardly saw Tami, except when the two of them tumbled exhausted into bed. Everybody wanted to interview Sebastian and Tomlinson. And Jake, as well. He talked until his throat felt raw, explaining the space plan, how it will generate new jobs, whole new industries.

  Jake followed Tomlinson across the country, filling in eager news reporters and self-important commentators about the space plan. Tami—once again a member of Earl Reynolds’s public relations team—set up interviews and background discussions.

  Jake was surprised that so many politicians’ aides wanted to learn the details of the space plan. But then he realized that the aides would feed their politicians as much information as they could handle, and carry the load from there. The politicians were the people who faced the public; the aides were the ones who did the work.

  It was at the launch of another Astra Super rocket, at New Mexico’s Spaceport USA, that Jake bumped into Billy Trueblood again. In the middle of the pre-launch party, in the Spaceport’s capacious headquarters building, the young Zuni came up to Jake.

  “Hello, Dr. Ross.” He was wearing a faded denim jacket over a checkered shirt and blue jeans, with a band of rough turquoise stones around his neck.

  “Billy, how are you?” Jake had to practically yell to be heard over the noise of the buzzing, chattering crowd.

  A rare smile split the young Zuni’s normally somber face. “I’m okay, sir,” Trueblood answered. “I’m fine.”

  “Good.”

  “For the first time in my life I’m doing what I want to do. I’m my own man now.”

  Jake didn’t know what to say. Trueblood’s come a long way in a couple of weeks, he thought.

  “I’ve been appointed the Zuni representative of the Young Astronauts program,” Billy said proudly.

  Honestly delighted, Jake said, “That’s great! Did Nick set that up for you?”

  “Mr. Piazza had nothing to do with it!” Trueblood snapped. “I worked through the tribal council. By myself, and for myself. I’ll be working with Isaiah Knowles, the ex-astronaut.”

  “That’s wonderful, Billy. I’m proud of you.”

  “I’ll be traveling to DC a lot, especially in the beginning. There’s a lot I have to learn.”

  Draping an arm across the young man’s broad shoulders, Jake promised, “Tami and I will show you around. There’s lots of very good restaurants in Washington.”

  With a laugh, Trueblood said, “You’ll be my friendly native guides, huh?”

  “Damned right,” said Jake.

  * * *

  Still chuckling, Trueblood disappeared into the crowd. Jake turned around and saw Tami coming down the stairs from the balcony where the news media people had been stationed. He pushed his way toward her.

  She rushed into his arms. “Jake! I just got a call from Earl Reynolds, back in DC. He’s got me an interview with Margarita Viera at WETA!”

  “The Washington PBS station,” Jake said. “I worked there myself for a few weeks.”

  “She’s offering the weekend anchor slot, Earl told me,” Tami bubbled. “And I’ll do specials, interviews … it’s a dream!”

  Overjoyed, Jake said, “You’ve earned it, Tami.”

  “This is your doing, isn’t it?”

  Still clinging to her, Jake replied, “I asked Frank to help, yes.”

  Tami kissed him. And Jake kissed her back, there in the middle of the crowd who had come to witness the launch.

  “FIVE MINUTES AND COUNTING,” the overhead speakers announced. “COUNTDOWN PROCEEDING ON SCHEDULE.”

  Arm in arm, Jake and Tami headed for the grandstand outside the Spaceport America building.

  The grandstand was filling up with people streaming out of the headquarters building. The sun was just touching the western hills, turning the sky red and violet. The wind was calm, but Jake felt tremendously keyed up.

  “WETA-TV,” Tami kept repeating. “I’ll host on national broadcasts, specials, and whatnot.”

  “Can’t keep a good woman down,” Jake said, with an ear-to-ear grin.

  “ONE MINUTE AND COUNTING,” the loudspeakers blared. “COUNTDOWN PROCEEDING ON SCHEDULE.”

  Two miles away, the Astra Super rocket stood straight and tall on its launchpad. This was an unmanned launch, de
signed to land construction equipment safely on the lunar surface; later crewed missions would use the equipment to start building a permanent base on the Moon.

  Jake saw roostertails of dust scurrying away from the launchpad as the last of the technicians hurried to safety.

  “THIRTY SECONDS AND COUNTING.”

  Jake felt his guts clenching inside him. The crowd climbing up into the grandstand started counting down in synchrony with the loudspeakers: “TWENTY … NINETEEN … EIGHTEEN…”

  Jake saw the umbilical cords drop away from the Astra Super. Now the rocket stood alone against the red-streaked twilight sky.

  “… TEN … NINE … EIGHT…”

  At T minus five seconds a cloud of steam billowed around the rocket’s base. Then flame lit the cloud from within and the rocket booster began to rise, slowly, majestically, leaving the Earth.

  Higher it rose, higher and faster. The sound reached across the distance to the grandstand, wave after wave of roaring thunder, shaking every nerve in Jake’s body. He clung to Tami, their faces uplifted as the Astra Super climbed across the sky, free of the bounds of Earth, heading toward the Moon.

  Heading into the future.

  TOR BOOKS BY BEN BOVA

  Able One

  The Aftermath

  Apes and Angels

  As on a Darkling Plain

  The Astral Mirror

  Battle Station

  The Best of the Nebulas (editor)

  Carbide Tipped Pens (coeditor)

  Challenges

  Colony

  Cyberbooks

  Death Wave

  Empire Builders

  Escape Plus

  Farside

  Gremlins Go Home (with Gordon R. Dickson)

  The Immortality Factor

  Jupiter

  The Kinsman Saga

  Leviathans of Jupiter

  Mars Life

  Mercury

  The Multiple Man

  New Earth

  New Frontiers

  Orion

  Orion Among the Stars

  Orion and King Arthur

  Orion and the Conqueror

  Orion in the Dying Time

  Out of the Sun

  The Peacekeepers

  Power Failure

  Power Play

  Powersat

  Power Surge

  The Precipice

  Privateers

  Prometheans