Margaritifer Basin (Margaritifer Trilogy Book 1) (38 page)

Jeff grinned and
shook his head. “I think Abby’s folks would want their house back at some
point. Besides, I fear we still have a little work to do.”

Abby groaned, “A
little, he says. I don’t want to even think about it.”

“Then don’t. We’re on
vacation, make the most of it.”

“Alright, if you say
so.” She slowly pushed herself up with a groan, walked down to the river, shed
her clothes on a large flat rock and waded into the pool.

Jeff leaned back to
his pack and pulled out a camera. “For once, I’m ready. Hey, Abby!” he shouted.
She twisted back toward him and, just as he caught her eyes, Jeff snapped the
shutter.

Abby wagged her
finger at him. “You know what I’m going to do to you if that shows up on the
Internet.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay.”
Jeff grinned, and took another picture.

Abby settled into the
shallow pool, swam to the falls at the other end and sat beneath the cascading
water.

Susan shook her head.
“She certainly is a free spirit.”

Jeff nodded. “Yes she
is.”

Chrissie frowned. “We
didn’t bring any towels. I want to see what she does next.”

“Play Lady Godiva and
ride back naked, air drying?” Susan mused.

Jeff grinned.
“Wouldn’t surprise me a bit.”

While Abby played
water nymph, the rest of them sat or lay quietly in the shade, enjoying the
Andalusian afternoon. After a while, Abby climbed out of the river onto the
rock where she’d left her clothes and stretched out on her back in the sun.

“Well, Chrissie,”
Jeff said, glancing down at Abby, “there’s your answer. Hey, Abby! Three
o’clock. Key Hole satellite pass any minute now.”

Abby waved him off.
“The last Key Hole came down forty years ago.”

Jeff frowned. “How
did she know that?”

Gabe wrinkled her nose. “How did
you
know it?”

“I dunno. Read it in a book
somewhere.”

Gabe grinned. “She
probably read the same book.”

Sunday, September 22,
2013 (T minus 913 days)

Jeff turned the pork
scallops in the frying pan and poured in a little white wine. “These’ll be
ready in a minute.”

“They smell
wonderful. Hey, does this get TV?” Chrissie said, staring at the LCD screen
hanging on the kitchen wall.

“I think so. There’s
a remote over there.”

“Is it in English?”

Jeff laughed. “Beats
me.”

Chrissie turned it on
and scrolled through the channel menu. “It’s about ten-thirty on the East Coast
and, with the subcommittee hearing last week, I was just curious to see if
there’s any mention of us on the Sunday morning talk shows.”

(Bob Schieffer)
“Joining us on
Face the Nation this morning are Senators Richard Landers and Edgar Marshall to
give us their perspectives on the manned mission to Mars currently being
planned, organized and funded by the California lottery winner, Jeffrey Grey.
Senator Landers, Senator Marshall, thank you for joining us this morning.”

“Uh, boss… You might want to watch
this. We’re on TV,” Chrissie said.

“Huh? What’s up?”

“Senators Landers and Marshall on
Face
the Nation
, talking about us.”

“Hmmm, Landers and Marshall, huh? Let me know when
they get to the mud wrestling.”

(Bob Schieffer)
“Senator
Marshall, this week’s hearing before the Science and Space Subcommittee got a
bit heated at times. Why was that?”

(Sen. Marshall)
“Bob, I think the
problem is that Mr. Grey simply doesn’t understand the enormity of what he’s
proposing, if indeed he’s actually proposing it. Honestly, I’m still not
convinced this isn’t just one of the greatest publicity stunts of all time. Mr.
Grey has pulled together a handful of people – all women, I might add, which
makes one a bit suspicious – that purport to have some expertise in aerospace.
But the simple fact is, he’s proposing to do something that the real experts –
NASA – say can’t be done. And when the subcommittee got down to some serious
questioning, Mr. Grey simply got defensive and, if I may say so, a little
arrogant and obnoxious.”

“Jeez! Was he at the same hearing
we were at?” Chrissie asked.

Jeff laughed. “I think he may
already be on another planet.”

(Bob Shieffer)
“Senator Landers,
was that your take?”

(Sen. Landers)
“No, Bob, not
even close. I know Captain Grey personally and, by the way, he is a retired
Navy Captain and a recipient of the Navy Cross and Purple Heart for his service
in the Gulf War, so I believe we should show the man a little respect and
courtesy. I’ve also met the members of his team and a finer, more talented,
more knowledgeable group of people you will never find. Captain Grey and his
organization know what they are doing. They did not appear before the
subcommittee to ask for anything, they came because the subcommittee asked them
to testify. They want nothing from the government or the taxpayers other than
for us to get out of their way and allow them to accomplish this incredible
journey.”

“That was nice of him,” Jeff said.

(Sen. Marshall)
“Well, if Mr.
Grey thinks the government is just going to sit by and allow him to go about
launching spacecraft from his backyard, he’s sadly mistaken. The United States
Congress will protect the safety of the American people, even if it means
protecting Mr. Grey and his people from their own foolishness. And tomorrow I
will be submitting legislation to ensure that this nonsense is stopped and the
future exploration of space is left to the professionals at NASA.”

Chrissie held up her middle finger
at the TV. “For you, Senator Dipshit.”

(Bob Shieffer)
“Senator
Landers?”

(Sen. Landers)
“A couple of
facts may be in order here. First, Captain Grey will not be launching anything
from his ‘backyard’ as my learned colleague knows full well. The Grey mission
will be utilizing the very same commercial launch vehicles and launch
facilities that are used by NASA, the United States Air Force, and commercial
satellite operators. He is not doing anything that isn’t regularly done by
every other space launch operator. Senator Marshall’s allegation is
preposterous and utterly false. Second, Captain Grey’s launch two and a half
months from now will utilize the only three heavy-lift vehicles to be launched
in this nation this entire year! Not because they’re the only ones available,
but because he is the only one that wants them and is willing to pay for them.
That is $300 million dollars out of his pocket going into the American
aerospace industry! That is $300 million dollars in aerospace industry jobs
that Senator Marshall seems to object to. Both this government and polls of the
American people have time and again suggested that space exploration needs to
involve more commercial business and less government, that is: more private
sector investment and fewer tax dollars. And that is EXACTLY what Captain Grey
is doing! So, what’s the problem? Well, Bob, I’ll tell you. The problem is that
certain elements in our government – and in the international community as well
– believe that THEY own and operate Mars. And those elements object vehemently
to an individual, such as Captain Grey, potentially undermining their
authority. But, Senator Marshall, will you please show me where in the United
States Constitution – or the constitution of any other nation on Earth – we are
granted ruling authority over another planet?”

Gabe, Abby and Susan wandered into
the kitchen. “God, boss, that smells great!” Abby said.

“Thanks, should be just about
ready.”

“What’s this?” Gabe asked, staring
at the TV.

Chrissie groaned. “
Face the
Nation.
Senator Rottweiler’s chewing on the leg of Senator Lamebrain.”

“Yeah, well, Senator Lamebrain’s
party owns Congress,” Jeff said, “so it may not matter much. Chrissie, is there
going to be any polling on this anytime soon?”

“Yeah, Rasmussen should be polling
on it right now. Hopefully, they’ll be posting the results on their website
tomorrow morning. There may be others, but that’s the only one I know of.”

“Okay, well, public opinion is our
best hope. Let’s wait and see. Why don’t you turn that BS off and let’s eat
this while it’s hot. Get the rest of that stuff out of the fridge, I’m
starving.”

“Amen to that,” said Abby.

#

“No, no, no.
You shot behind it again. You’re not swinging through. Swing through it
and pull the trigger just as the muzzle covers the pigeon.” Jeff pulled the
shotgun Gabe had shouldered in a smooth, sweeping motion. “Swing through it.
Try it again.”

Gabe sighed, loaded
another shell in the shotgun and pointed it downrange. “Okay… PULL!”

Abby yanked the cord
on the trap thrower and the clay pigeon took flight in front of them. BANG! And
the pigeon was reduced to dust.

“Yes!” Jeff hollered.
“See, that wasn’t so hard.”

Gabe lowered the
shotgun and shook her head. “I still think a hammer would be easier.”

Jeff smiled. “Yeah,
but where’s the fun in that?”

She started to hand
the gun to Jeff. “Okay, can I go home now?”

“No. Do it again.”

“Groan. I told you, I
don’t like guns.”

“Gabe, until fifteen
minutes ago you’d never shot one. How can you not like something you’ve never
tried?”

“I’ve never been
eaten by cannibals, but I don’t think I’d like that either.”

Jeff laughed and
shook his head. “Oh lord, just try it again.”

After taking a piece off another bird,
Jeff grinned and winked at Gabe. “Excellent! Now you’re getting the hang of
it.”

“Great. Can I take a
break now? My shoulder hurts.”

“It’s a 20-gauge shotgun with a light
target load, it can’t hurt
that
much.”

“My shoulder
disagrees.”

“Alright, wuss. Sue,
job opportunity. Gabe needs a physical therapist.”

Susan curled up her
lips in a wry smile. “Take two aspirin and call me in the morning.”

Gabe handed the
shotgun to Jeff and frowned at Susan, “You’re a big help.”

Jeff looked over the
side-by-side double-barrel shotgun, then turned to Abby. “Your father has nice
taste in scatterguns. These Spanish?”

“Yeah, AYAs.
Personally I prefer a Browning over-and-under with a pistol grip, but these’ll
do.”

“Sweet.” He held out
the gun to her. “Okay, Annie Oakley, let’s see what you’ve got.”

“Eh, that’s my
mother’s gun. I prefer dad’s 12,” She picked up the other shotgun. “Okay. And
let’s just cut to the chase: doubles.”

“As you please.” Jeff
stepped back to the trap thrower and loaded two birds. “Ready.”

Abby loaded two
shells and shouldered the shotgun. “PULL!”

The first pigeon wasn’t ten yards out
when Abby powdered it. She quickly swung onto the second and likewise reduced
it to dust.

Gabe’s jaw dropped.
“Jeez! How do you do that?”

Abby broke the
action, ejecting the two empties, turned around with a cocky grin, and
shrugged. “Nothing to it. Too easy.”

Jeff smiled. “Your
grandfather taught you well.”

“You remembered.”

He nodded. “Sure.
Again?”

“Load ‘em up.”

Abby promptly
repeated the feat.

Jeff shook his head.
“Okay, guess we need a couple of skeet towers to make this a bit more
challenging.”

Abby winked at him.
“No, this is fine. It’s fun.”

Chrissie came running
up the hill from the villa. “Rasmussen just posted it. 84% strongly support
allowing the mission to go forward!”

“84%?” Jeff asked, appearing
a bit puzzled. “What’s with the other 16%?”

Chrissie shrugged. “That’s the 16%
that voted for ‘Free the gerbils.’”

“Hmmm. Who would have
ever thought that the first manned mission to Mars would come down to
politics?” Jeff rubbed his chin, sighed deeply and glanced lamentingly at the
other four. “We need to get back. We need to do something to give the Science
and Space Subcommittee a reason to kill Marshall’s bill, and give Landers some
support.” He thought for a moment. “Chrissie, get us on an airplane tomorrow.”

Chrissie nodded.
“Okay.”

Abby frowned and
sighed. “Damn.”

Wednesday, September
25, 2013 (T-909 days)

“Jeff, Marshall and
Fairchild will back off and you’ll get the full cooperation of the United
States government. Just consider it.”

“No need, Senator. My
answer is not only no, but hell no! Replace two members of my crew with NASA
astronauts and let NASA take control of safety issues? You’ve got to be
kidding? You tell Marshall and Fairchild that I will hold a press conference
tomorrow and name names, and we’ll see what happens to their reelection prospects
next year. Senator, what has happened to this nation? Teddy Roosevelt and John
Kennedy are spinning like tops in their graves. It’s embarrassing.”