Margaritifer Basin (Margaritifer Trilogy Book 1) (45 page)

            “Oh, Admiral, we’d bring back plenty. We’ll be
there for a year and a half, during which time we have every intention of
conducting a massive amount of exploration and analysis. And we will send that
data back ahead of us so that the world has it whether we make it back or not.
But samples? Sorry sir, the world in its glorious paranoia has just made that
too hard to do.”

            “Jeff, what do you think,” the Vice President
asked, “would be public reaction to – and, please, I’m not trying to be morbid
here – the situation where the government allowed you to go forward with this
mission, perhaps even provided some support, and you didn’t make it back?”

            Jeff smiled. “Sir, public reaction to any event
is always difficult to gauge. I suspect there would be questions about why the
government allowed us to go, perhaps why the government did not provide more
support and, probably a few conspiracy theorists amongst the tin foil hat
crowd.”

            “Correct. So you see our dilemma.”

            “Of course, sir. But, if you’ll forgive me for
saying so, it’s
your
dilemma, not mine.”

            The Vice President smiled and nodded. “You’ve
thought this through rather well, haven’t you?”

            Jeff grinned. “Wouldn’t you?”

            A young girl, perhaps thirteen, appeared at the
door and was promptly met by the First Lady. “Captain Grey, please forgive me
but I promised our daughter that she could meet all of you. This is Melissa and
she’s been following your story and is a big fan.”

            “Hello, Melissa, I’m pleased to meet you,” Jeff
said, and introduced her to the others.

“Wow,
your gowns are so beautiful. You don’t look like astronauts.”

Abby laughed. “Well, flight suits
didn’t seem appropriate to the occasion.”

“Dr. Frederick, I didn’t know you
were so tall. Is that a designer gown?”

Gabe smiled and nodded.
“Valentino.”

“Valentino? Oh, wow. Mom?”

“No.” The First Lady smiled at Gabe
and shook her head.

“Oh,” Melissa pouted. “Doctor, I’ve
heard that you play the piano.”

Anticipating the next question,
Gabe gave her a pained grin. “Yes.”

“Me too! But probably not as well
as you. Would you play something for us?”

Gabe grimaced. “Uh…” Jeff gently
poked her in the ribs with his elbow. “… if you’d like.”

“Oh, great!” Melissa grabbed Gabe’s
hand and hurriedly pulled her toward one of the doors adjoining the East Room.
“The piano’s in here.”

Gabe glanced over her shoulder at
Jeff. “I guess we’re going to play the piano.”

Jeff nodded. “Be right there.”

Susan stepped up to Jeff. “May I
speak with you for a moment.”

“Sure.” He turned to the group,
“Excuse us, please,” and followed Susan to a corner of the room. “What’s up?”

“Something about this doesn’t feel
right.”

“You noticed it too.”

“The first daughter was entirely
out of line and no one even raised an eyebrow. If I’d done something like that
as a child, my parents would have skinned me alive.”

“Yeah, mine too. I don’t know
what’s going on. Stay close to Gabe.”

Susan nodded.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the First
Lady announced, “we have a special treat. Dr. Frederick, a fine pianist, has
consented to provide us with a little after dinner concert in the East Room.”

Jeff groaned at her use of the word
‘concert’.

The small crowd filtered into the
huge East Room that, Jeff was pleased to note, except for the gilt eagle-leg
White House Steinway in one corner, was completely devoid of furniture. An
usher was raising the piano’s lid and Gabe adjusting the bench height with
Melissa hovering about as Jeff approached. “That’s some piano.”

“Isn’t it?” Gabe said. “Melissa,
would you excuse us for a moment?”

“Sure,” and she joined her parents.

Gabe leaned toward Jeff and
whispered, “What should I play?”

“I dunno; something short, simple,
and that they’ll recognize.”

“Like what?
Für Elise
?”

Jeff thought for a second. “Sure.
Why not?”

Gabe frowned. “I could play that
when I was six.”

“So you can still play it now,
right?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Good. Then play it, and let’s get
this over with.”

“Okay,” Gabe sighed.

Jeff joined Abby who was standing
beside the first daughter.

As Gabe began playing, Melissa
remarked under her breath, “That’s easy, I can play that.”

Abby softly shushed her.

When Gabe finished, the applause was
polite but tepid. She stood and bowed.

Melissa blurted, “Encore, please?”

Gabe stared uncomfortably at Jeff.

Jeff grumbled to himself then
turned to the President and First Lady. “She hadn’t planned on this. Excuse me
while we conduct a little programming conference.” He quickly walked over to
Gabe. “Okay, change of plans.”

“Huh?”

“Light ‘em up.”

“What do you mean?”

“Play something that’ll wake ‘em
up.”

Gabe groaned. “Like what?”

Jeff stared at the floor and
thought for a second. “Okay, play the
Fire Dance
.”

Gabe gasped, “Oh god, I can’t.
Jeff, I can’t. It’s too hard. I’m already shaking.”

“Sure you can. Gabe, decent folks
don’t put this kind of pressure on guests, particularly ones they’ve never met.
This is a test. This whole evening’s been a test. Somebody here knows you, or
knows of you and they’re applying pressure to what they think is our weak
link.”

Gabe’s pained expression morphed
into a frown. “I’m not a weak link.”

Jeff nodded. “I know that. Now let
them know it.”

Gabe bit her lip and nodded. “I’ll
try.”

He leaned forward, smiled, and
kissed her cheek. “There is no try, Gabe. Do, or do not.”

She nodded.

He grinned and winked at her.
“Knock ‘em dead, kid.”

As Jeff returned to the group, Gabe
smiled politely and again took her seat at the piano. She took a deep breath
and a moment later launched into Manuel da Falla’s
Ritual Fire Dance
as
she’d never played it before.

Abby glanced at the first daughter
who stood watching intently, eye’s wide and mouth agape. She leaned toward her
and whispered, “Can you play this?”

Melissa slowly shook her head.

“Uh huh. Close your mouth.”

            Gabe finished with a flourish but instead of
rising to the group she simply leaned back and stared at the keyboard with a
satisfied grin. The response from her audience this time was a bit different.
Momentarily there was stunned silence, but that quickly evolved into raucous
applause. Gabe rose from the piano and bowed deeply, then caught Jeff’s eye and
winked.

            Out of the corner of his eye Jeff noticed the
President whisper to the First Lady, who immediately whisked young Melissa out
of the room. Then he stepped forward toward Gabe. “That was stupendous. You
really are quite good. I am impressed.”

            Gabe bowed graciously. “Thank you sir. I’m just
glad I made it through. That one’s hard.”

            “The way you play, it didn’t look hard.”

            Gabe grinned.

            The President turned to the gathering. “Well,
ladies and gentlemen, I have an early morning breakfast meeting with a bunch of
senators that don’t like me very much, so I’m going to kick you all out. It’s
been a very entertaining and informative evening and I thank you all very much
for coming.” Then he turned to Jeff. “Captain, I wonder if you and your team
might stay for just a few minutes?”

            Jeff nodded. “Of course, sir.”

            Following some minutes of handshaking and
pleasantries, the room emptied and the President motioned to Jeff, “Come with
me.” They followed him downstairs and west through the Center Hall. Trailing a
short distance behind was Jeannine, a White House photographer who had spent
the evening snapping photos, some posed, mostly candid. At the end of the hall
the President paused and stuck his head through the pantry door. “Nice job
folks. Great dinner.” Then he led them on through the Palm Room, outside down
the West Colonnade, into the West Wing and eventually the Oval Office. “Come on
in. Jeannine, why don’t you take a couple of shots, then you can shove off.”

            “Yes sir.” She posed them as a group in front of
the Oval Office desk and casually on the sofas, then turned to Jeff and smiled,
“I’ll send you copies,” and left.

            The President stuck his head through the door to
the secretaries’ office, “Barbara, would you call the East Wing security desk
and have them instruct Captain Grey’s driver to come on around to the West
Wing? Save them the walk back. Thanks,” and he took a seat in one of the chairs
in front of the fireplace. “Most of those people at dinner tonight advised me
against doing this. The general consensus was that you were a bunch of
crackpots and that nothing good could come of your venture and the Executive
branch should simply ignore you in the hope that you’d somehow just go away. I
think they were wrong. Well, at least so far.” He thought for a minute, rubbing
his chin. “You’re going to create a big headache for me, one way or another.”
He smiled. “But honestly, dealing with headaches is what this office is all
about. I don’t know if you can pull this off, but after what I’ve heard this
evening I’m not at all convinced that you can’t. And if you are successful, it
seems to me the government’s best solution to facing all those ‘hard questions’
that were discussed earlier is to be a part of this. So, what say we work
together?”

            Jeff, Gabe, Abby, Susan and Chrissie all broke
into broad grins. “Yes, sir,” Jeff said. “Thank you, sir.”

            “Now, don’t misunderstand me. Just because no
one wants to pay for a NASA mission to Mars doesn’t mean that they’re
interested in paying for your mission. Still, there does seem to be a lot this
office can do to help you along – grease the skids, as it were – without
further tapping Mr. and Mrs. America’s pocketbook.”

            “Yes, sir.”

            “You really want all that stuff from our Apollo
and shuttle junkyards?”

            Jeff laughed. “Yes, sir, we do. It served
America’s space program well for fifty years, it’ll get us to Mars and back.”

            “Alright. You seem to know what you’re doing so
I’ll take your word for it. I’ll figure out how to cut it loose and have
someone get in touch with you. Of course, those lunatics in California will
probably declare it all state historical artifacts and take us to court but…
whatever.”

            Jeff beamed and nodded graciously. “Thank you,
sir.”

            “Now, any refurbishing and assembly is, of
course, going to come out of your checkbook.”

            “Understood, sir. No problem. We can’t ask for
anything more.”

            “Okay. Now, this business about no sample return
is, well, utterly mindless. Though I understand your position, the thought of
going all that way and not bringing back any rocks is…” he shook his head,
“inconceivable.”

            “You’ll get no argument from us on that account,
sir.”

            “I’ll talk to the NASA Administrator and see if
we can work something out. We might be able to do something like have NASA
subcontract that aspect of the mission to you. I don’t know, something like
that.”

            “Yes, sir.”

            “You really think you can fly Jupiters in two
years?”

            Jeff nodded. “Yes, sir, I do. If we can keep the
bureaucracy out of our way.”

            “Well, there’s no doubt that a super-heavy
lifter like that would have a dramatic impact on launch costs and, though it
wouldn’t guarantee NASA’s reentry into the manned space exploration business,
it would sure expand their options. I’ll see what I can do. Perhaps we can look
at some kind of joint venture. Congress has handed out truckloads of money to
every other aerospace company around; I don’t see why you should be an
exception. I’ll put some people on it and we’ll get back to you.”

            “Thank you, sir. Thank you very much.”

            “Now, I’m not making any promises. Just saying
we’ll take a look at it.”

            “Understood, sir.”

            President Caldwell stood, promptly followed by
Jeff and the others, and shook hands with each. “I’m delighted that we did
this. If meetings with Congress would be just half as informative and one-tenth
as productive we might get something done around here. I wish you all the best
of luck and I hope to see you here again.”

            As they followed a White House aide down the
corridor toward the West Wing lobby, Abby subtly extended her hand back toward
Jeff in a low-five gesture. Jeff gently swatted her outstretched palm and
smiled.

            In the limousine back to Manassas there were whoops
and hollers and congratulations all around. Jeff nodded and smiled broadly.
“That couldn’t have gone much better. Y’all did great!”

            Gabe grimaced. “Even me?”

            Jeff winked at her. “Yeah, even you.”

            “So, what now?” Abby asked.

            “Full court press.” Jeff responded. “We’ve got
twenty-eight and a half months until we climb into that Apollo command module
and launch.” He shook his head. “In this industry, that is an unbelievably
short timeframe. Chrissie, work with the White House Press Secretary, see if
you can arrange a joint press announcement and briefing. Let’s see if we can
get people around the nation – hell, around the world – thinking this is
their
mission, not just ours.”

            Chrissie nodded. “Got it.”

            “I’ll sit on ULA and SpaceX, and fly down to
Kennedy and make sure they don’t muck things up. The success of these launches
is so important; not just for our survival, but for our credibility. Gabe, time
to start building Jupiters. While you’re working on complete and final
schematics, see if we can get floor space at Michoud for this, and get Boeing
busy on the EDS. Arrange meetings with all the players. Lean on them, we’re
running out of time. Let me know if you need anything.”