The Inner Circle (19 page)

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Neil Peterson walked into the large test hangar and saw that a new model shuttle module had been set up where the old one used to be. He had worked on the last model for the last six months, working out all of the kinks and possible procedural drills, until he felt like he knew the shuttle inside and out. He looked down at his watch and saw that he was nearly an hour late and immediately wished that his weekend drinking binge had not clouded his memory about the new module he was supposed to begin testing this week. He walked toward the module and circled around it, inspecting the features that were new to this particular model. Before he could begin inspecting too closely, Neil finally noticed something that should have been obvious to him the second he walked inside.

There was nobody around.

The hangar was usually crawling with 'techies', who’d be inspecting every square inch of the module, especially on the first day a new one arrived. He looked up at the staircase to the second floor operations area, where the rest of the ‘techies’ huddled around computers, either communicating with him while he ran tests or taking readings on the different systems. But nobody was up there either.

What the hell is going on? Did somebody schedule a meeting somewhere else?

The door to the hangar swung open and a young, brown-haired kid waved to Neil. Rick was only twenty-two, but Neil thought the kid looked like he was still in high school. Rick had recently gotten out of the Air Force and was hired by NASA a few months back to serve as Neil's assistant. Neil tried to teach the kid the ins and outs of the job, but Rick had the worst memory of any person he’d ever met. He also had the worst instincts, as every time Neil let Rick ‘fly’ a solo computer-generated simulation exercise, the results always ended with a destroyed shuttle and a failed mission. Neil sure was glad that these exercises were only theoretical or else Rick would have lost NASA billions of dollars by now.

"Hey, where is everyone?" Neil asked.

"The ‘techies’ were sent over to the engineering department this morning when you didn't show up on time. I think Bill was pretty angry that you were late on the first day with the new module."
             

Bill Murphy was the head of the simulation and testing department and was the only person ever to get on Neil's case when he messed up. Bill was one of those straight-laced, always-follow-the-rules guys that pilots loved to hate. It was no secret that he and Neil disliked each other, but because they needed each other to succeed, they were usually able to coexist.

"So where is Bill now? I'm sure that he'll want to chew me out for showing up late again," Neil said, becoming defensively angry with other people although he was the one at fault. “Not like these training exercises are even important.”

"What do you mean it's not important? The work we do here helps in many ways. We tell the designing crews ways to improve the shuttles structurally. And more importantly, we cover the bases for, God forbid, any possible disasters in space. If it wasn't for the procedural lists we write up, astronauts and mission control might hesitate too long before they can help solve a problem."

Neil couldn't help but laugh at the kid's naïveté.

"Yeah, I guess that’s the official answer we should give to justify all the money NASA spends for this crap. But let's face it, Rick. Nobody really cares about space travel anymore except the people who work at NASA and the amount of interest from the general public goes down with every passing year. People just don't care about space anymore."

"That's not true," Rick argued. "Look at the International Space Station. Any time something important happens there, it always ends up on the news."

"The ISS? You've got to be kidding me. The only reason it's newsworthy is because people know the station will be retired any day now. The thing is too small for people to care about it. You're just going to have to face it: Astronauts are a dying breed, my boy," Neil said.

Neil was not sure if he believed what he was saying himself, but it sure felt right to trivialize the work that he did. After all, anything less than traveling into space was a failure in his book. Before Rick had the chance to respond, a person from upstairs called down to Neil.

"Peterson, get up here," Bill Murphy yelled before turning around and disappearing back into his office.

"Good luck, Neil," Rick said ominously.

"I don't need luck. They can't fire me, they know I'm too good at what I do just to get rid of me. Besides, if they did fire me, they'd probably be doing me a favor. I should have left this job years ago."

"I wouldn't underestimate them if I were you."

"Please," Neil said, fully confident that his job was not in trouble. "They are just trying to scare me into getting here on time every day. But I'm not going to brownnose to keep this job. And that's that."

Neil traversed the staircase and walked through the 'techies' computer area, walking down the small hallway to the one room in the entire hangar that had a door. Bill Murphy's office was nothing more than a large storage closet with a desk and Bill rarely ever used it. In fact, although Bill was technically in charge of the whole branch of operations involving the simulation exercises, he was rarely around. His job was not hands-on, as he dealt more with the administrative side of things. He couldn't tell a space shuttle from an airplane, but he was sure good at justifying to NASA the importance of such a trivial operation.

When Neil walked into Bill's oversized closet, he was stunned to be staring at one of astronaut's greatest legends. Neil's sense of self-consciousness suddenly kicked in and he immediately felt embarrassed by his mop of long, uncombed hair and face full of scraggly beard.
Of course I look like a hungover drunk on the day I meet James Armour for the second time.

"Mr. Armour, it’s an honor to see you again," Neil said, extending his hand. Armour shook it, but looked quizzically at Neil, his brow furrowed.

"Have we met before?"

"Yes, sir. I was part of the group that was trying to develop the secret project a few years ago," Neil said, not mentioning too many details since Bill Murphy might not have had the clearance.

Armour nodded his head, but Neil had the impression that Armour had no idea what he was talking about.

"I was just telling Mr. Armour how much work we've done here at the simulation center," Bill explained. "And how we were lucky to have such a skilled pilot as you to do the majority of testing."

"Thank you, Bill," Neil said, surprised that his boss was actually giving him praise. This wouldn’t last long, though.

"But I was also telling him how you've made it a habit to show up when you want, and how you sometimes in no condition to do your job. Also, if it weren't for you being such a good pilot, I would've fired you a long time ago."

"Well, sir, I'm sorry you feel that way but my life hasn't been too great the past few years and – "

"You know, son," Armour said, "the reason NASA has gotten such a bad reputation recently is because of people like you. I can appreciate the skill that you possess, but I don't want anyone working for me who value themselves above the rest of the administration."

Neil had a bad feeling about the way this conversation was headed.

"I don't mean to give that impression, sir. I will try to be a better team player from now on," Neil promised.

"I'm not sure if I can believe that or if you’re just saying that to save your job," Armour said.

"I’m sorry but I don't want to take any chances," Armour continued. "We have to shake things up around here and it starts with people who I don't feel are fully committed to their job. Sorry, son, but I want you out of here by the end of the day."

Neil could not think of anything to say, as the only chance for him to fulfill his dream of going into space – no matter how small that chance might have been – was now officially over.

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Neil stumbled across his living room, knocking things all over the ground in the process, yet not caring whatsoever. This was the drunkest he could ever remember being before noon on a weekday, as the bottle of whiskey he opened a few hours ago was now mostly empty. After being fired, Neil left the NASA compound immediately, speeding his old Camaro across the desert as fast as the car would take him. He arrived at his small, messy apartment in less than ten minutes and had his first drink of the day in less than eleven. His hangover from the previous night had still not gone away before the first taste of whiskey passed over his lips.

The best way to get rid of a hangover is to drink some more.

Over the past three years, there were three or four different times when Neil thought his life had hit rock bottom. But he was pretty sure that he couldn't get any lower than he was now. He collapsed onto his couch, sending up a cloud of dust in the process, and began to cry the tears of a defeated man. He had given up his whole life for NASA, had allowed his family to leave because of his one dream.

That one stupid dream. I gave up my wife for that one stupid dream. I gave up my daughter for that one stupid dream. I gave up my beautiful, loving daughter...

Neil stood up and smacked himself across the face as hard as he could. He slammed the bottle of whiskey on his stained coffee table and could not tell if the crack he heard was from the glass bottle or the wooden table. Either way, he did not care.

Neil stumbled into the single bedroom and threw open his closet door. The stench of dirty clothes smacked him in the face, but he did not let it stop him. He began to dig through the pile of clothes until he found a suitcase and began to pack all of the dirty clothes. He would worry about washing them later. As for now, he had to pack as much of his stuff in his car as he could and drive across the country to his daughter. Maybe his wife would even take him back.
             

Unless she had a new man in her life...

This thought was enough to send Neil back to the living room, where his whiskey was still waiting for him. He took a long swig from the bottle and went back to packing, determined to finish getting his things together and leave tonight to regain his family.

Once he had a suitcase full of old, dirty clothes, Neil realized just how much junk he was going to have to leave behind. His car wouldn’t hold very much, but it didn't matter to him anymore. As long as his car got him to where he needed, his material possessions were of little importance.

When his bags were packed and ready to go, Neil started to worry about what lay ahead for him. He knew his ex-wife would not be happy when he suddenly appeared on her doorstep and there was no way she would let him stay there. Neil had about a thousand dollars in the bank, which was all of the money he was able to save over the years. He would use that money to get a hotel room for a few nights and would begin to look for an apartment and a job as soon as he was done apologizing to his daughter. He hoped Emily would understand his absence, hoped she wasn't old enough to be bitter towards him yet.

Wow, I got a lot of important stuff to do. I better sleep off my buzz before I start any of it.

His stomach felt like it was rejecting the bottle of whiskey and Neil realized that the best thing to do was take a nap before he left. He hoped to wake up feeling refreshed and ready for his new life.

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POUND...POUND...POUND...POUND.

Neil sat up in his bed and wondered at first if the pounding was coming from inside his head. He looked out his bedroom window at the night sky, realizing that he must have been passed out for quite awhile. His head spun when he tried to stand and he stumbled back to a sitting position on the edge of his bed.

POUND...POUND...POUND...POUND.

His head was aching but the pounding was definitely coming from some other place. He walked into his living room – which reeked of whiskey – and saw his suitcase sitting by the door. The suitcase was not closed all the way, though, as half of the clothes inside stuck out on all sides. He remembered wanting to leave to go see his daughter, but his determination was not as high now as before he passed out.
What if my wife won’t let me see Emily? What if she brings up the whole 'incident' and calls the police on me?

POUND...POUND...POUND...POUND.

Whoever was pounding on the door must have been desperate to see Neil, but he didn’t know who that could possibly be. Could he be in some kind of trouble? Neil decided that if anybody needed to see him that badly, then it had to be trouble and he probably would not want to see them.

"Go away," he yelled hoarsely, his mouth feeling like one big cotton ball.

The person pounding away continued until Neil finally opened the door. For the second time that day, he was shocked to see James Armour. This time, though, he was not as impressed by the man's prestige and swung the door closed as soon as he realized who it was. Armour responded quickly, putting his hand up to stop the door before it shut all the way.