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.
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 experience 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.