Zero-G (21 page)

Edwin Quain drove his rental car through the streets of San Diego. Azure sky, warm air, and the faint smell of salt from the ocean made things seem just right. He thought of his former employers opening letters from the IRS. Everyone opened letters from the IRS. The organization was so frightening that no one would ignore such a mailing. He had received a few in his day, and so it took very little effort to have letterhead and envelopes printed. Any good printer hooked up to a decent computer could do it. Very few people would examine the lettering to see if it measured up to the real thing.

Quain smiled. By tomorrow, he would have confirmation of their deaths. A simple hookup to any wireless network would allow him to search Google News. Their deaths would be mentioned there.

Yup. It was a fine and beautiful day.

Anthony Verducci hung up the phone and took a deep breath. Things had just become far more complicated and telling his boss had been difficult. More people would now be involved, and every addition was one more link in the chain that could fail. He didn't like that — didn't like it at all.

He picked up the receiver again and punched in the number of Ganzi's cell phone.

Ganzi's words were hushed. “Yeah?”

“We need to talk.”

TWENTY

Five months later

“So tomorrow is the big day.”

“Yup. This time tomorrow, I'll be touching the edge of space. Not as high as a Shuttle mission, but seventy-two miles up is nothing to sneeze at.”

Ben Tucker nodded his head, then brushed back a wisp of gray hair. As they relaxed over coffee in the hotel restaurant, Tuck looked at his father and felt the high tide of pride. A brave man who faced all problems head on, even in his senior years, his father remained an impossible force to ignore. Perhaps his strength came from the many years spent as a firefighter, or the equally many years as a deacon in his church.

“And you say the ship flies like it should?”

“It's a dream beginning to end and top to bottom. As you know, I've done two test flights with it, and others have flown the earlier version. Tomorrow we take up our first passengers and make history in the process.” A broad smile crossed Tuck's face. “When I was a kid, I dreamed of a spacecraft like this. The Shuttle has a beauty all its own, but
Legacy
looks like something out of the old sci-fi magazines. Actually, it looks better. You'll get a firsthand look tomorrow morning. That's another thing I appreciate.”

“What is?”

“NASA has so much security. I could get family tours from time to time, but Roos allows much more intimate tours for the families of his workers. There are some secrets, of course, but at least you can get close enough to see inside and touch things.”

“I'm looking forward to it. Have you met the passengers yet?”

“No. I know about them. I've read their files. Lance Campbell has been handling their training.”

“I assume there's still bad blood between you two.”

“I'm afraid so. He's still arrogant and he still blames me for his finishing lower at Annapolis than I did. Ridiculous.”

Ben swiveled his head from side to side. “He accused you of cheating.”

“He never believed the decision of the investigation. His allegations were groundless. I graduated in the top five of the class and he a little farther back. I got a couple of choice assignments in the Navy and he got a couple of dogs. Still, he proved himself a capable pilot and sailor.”

“That's the problem with some people. They can't be happy at being great as long as someone finishes ahead of them. Is he going to be a problem for you?”

“No. He's let me know that he still resents me. We've had words but nothing too bad. I've only wanted to punch him five or six times. Roos keeps a tight leash on him.”

“How did he take the news that you were selected to be the lead pilot on the first flight?”

“Not well, but I'm not fooling myself. Roos gave me that position because of its marketing value. I have higher name recognition — unfortunately, for all the wrong reasons.”

“I've never met someone so uncomfortable with being considered a hero.”

“We've been through this, Dad. I'm no hero. I didn't even land the Shuttle; they did that from the ground.”

“But you did do your best to save lives and fought against crippling illness to do so.”

“I did what any one of the crew would have done. I neither deserve nor want the attention.” Tuck poured milk into his coffee.

“Didn't the Navy teach you to drink your coffee black?”

“They taught me many things but not that.”

The bustle of the late-dinner crowd filled the few moments of silence the men shared. Tuck enjoyed the time he spent with his father. The man before him had earned his respect, not just because he was Tuck's father but because of the nobility in the man himself.

“I appreciate you bringing me all the way out here. I've never been on a fancy business jet like that before.”

“The boss owns that. I still prefer my Corsair.” Tuck gazed out the window of the hotel and watched the twinkling lights of the Victorville, California, traffic roll by. “You've been at every one of my launches. I can't see any reason to change now. Besides, you're my good luck charm.”

“I thought you told me your wife was the good luck charm.”

“Can't have too many of those — good luck charms, not wives.”

Ben chuckled. “I was hoping you'd clarify that.” He sipped his coffee. “How are they doing with all this?”

Tuck returned his gaze to his father. “Just like they always have. They're worried about me, but they deal with it. Myra has resigned herself to having married a crazy man. The kids . . . well, the kids know that a man has to do what a man has to do. They're back in the room watching a movie. I'm always a little antsy before a big flight. I appreciate you giving me a little distraction.”

Ben looked into his coffee cup as a gypsy fortuneteller looks into a crystal ball.

“What?” Tuck said. “Something swimming in your drink?”

“Nah. I pulled that out a few minutes ago.”

“Then what? I know that look.”

“It's just that your family isn't dealing as well with it as you might think. Penny talked to me earlier. You were still at the launch site.”

Tuck's chest felt empty. “She's had the most difficulty with me flying again. Never got over the
Atlantis
tragedy.”

“None of us have. Have you?”

Tuck shook his head. “No. Not
over
it, but
beyond
it. I've compartmentalized it to the past.”

“Is that possible?”

“No, but I tell myself it is. So what did Penny bend your ear about?”

Ben looked out the window and waited for the waitress who appeared from nowhere to refill his cup. A second or two after she left, Ben said, “She asked if I was praying for you.”

“She has always been the spiritual one.”

Ben frowned, and Tuck realized he had offended the old man. “There shouldn't be a spiritual
one
in a Christian family, Son. Are you saying Myra and Gary are less spiritual?”

“Of course not. It's just that Penny is more involved in church than the rest of us. We all attend but she likes to do the other things — with the youth group, I mean.”

“Reminds me of a young man I used to know.”

The reference was clear. “It's true. I used to be very active in church when I was young, but things change.”

“Things don't change, Tuck, people do. You've changed.”

“What do you mean?” Tuck said defensively. “I'm still a believer.”

“I don't doubt your belief; it's your practice I worry about.”

Tuck leaned back in the booth. “Wait a minute, Dad. I've done nothing wrong. I'm faithful to my wife and my family. I don't chase women, I don't get drunk, and I mind my language.”

“Is that what you think Christian faith is all about —good morals?” Sadness covered Ben's face. “Then I think I owe you an apology.”

“No need, Dad. No harm done.”

“I'm not being clear. I'm not apologizing for what I said. I'm apologizing for not having been a better Christian example. Somehow, I failed to get the core idea across.”

“Nonsense. No man could have been a better father than you've been to me.”

“I failed to instill in you the proper understanding of faith, Tuck. Apparently, I didn't say the right things, didn't do the right things, didn't exemplify what a Christian man is. That's why I need to apologize.”

“I believe in God, Dad.” Tuck lowered his voice. “I still claim Christ as my Savior. That hasn't changed.”

“But your relationship to Him has. Do you still blame God for what happened on
Atlantis
?”

“I never blamed Him. I've never said anything against God.”

“Have you said anything
to
Him?”

The distinction shot past Tuck's brain. “What do you mean?”

“Do you pray? Do you worship?”

“I attend church. Perhaps not as much as I should, but I still attend. And I read my Bible from time to time.”

Ben pursed his lips. “Look. You're a grown man capable of making his own decisions, but you're still my son. Don't you see? Ignoring God is the same thing as denying Him.”

“So what do you want me to do, Dad? Fall on my knees right here?” Tuck pushed his cup away. His tone came harsher than he intended.

“No, Son. I don't. Every Christian father's fear is that his children will depart from the faith. I know you haven't denied your faith, but I fear that it's dying of atrophy. I'm as proud of you as I have ever been. You are the joy of my life and have been since the day you were born. Even then, I knew you were special. I saw it in your childhood: keen intellect, curiosity, and the necessary lack of common sense that keeps the rest of us from climbing on top of rockets.”

“I got all that from you. As I recall you used to be the first into burning buildings. You are a legend at the fire department.”

“Maybe, but I never went into situations like that without being fully prayed up.” He paused, then added, “God didn't kill your crew. An accidental mix of medications did.”

“He . . .”

“What?”

“Nothing. Let it go.”

“Do you think God doesn't already know what's on your mind? Just say it, boy.”

Tuck leaned over the table and whispered the words. “God may not have killed my crew, but He didn't save them either.”

“Ah, so that's it. You do blame God for
Atlantis
. Not for killing your crew but for not saving them.”

“I don't know. Maybe. I haven't given it any thought.”

“And there, Son, is the problem. You need to think about it and think hard.” Ben pushed the coffee cup aside and folded his hands. “I'm not going to give you a sermon, Tuck. I never could preach much. I have no talent in that area. Still, I'll tell you this: I'm dying. You're dying. Everyone is dying. Your crew died before your eyes, so that makes it far worse than most of us can imagine, but in the end, it is no different than someone dying in an auto accident. Chris tians aren't promised trouble-free lives, but we are promised help in the days we have and an eternity after this life ends.”

“I know that.”

“I know you know it, Son. I'm just not sure you live it.”

A heavy pause separated the men and Tuck felt lost. His father ended the awkwardness. “You know I love you, Son. Maybe I'm losing my grip on things. I'm getting close to the end of my life, and I just want to know that your faith is more than a belief held, rather, a life lived.”

“You've got plenty of years left.”

“No, don't say that, Tuck. No one knows what he or she has left. None of us is promised another sunrise. Tomorrow you go into space again. God forbid that something should happen, but it could. For that matter, something deadly could happen on the way to the launch site. Parents shouldn't outlive their children, but if that happens the only comfort available to me will come from God. He was there for me when your mother died. He's always been there.”

“I think I understand, Dad. I really do.”

“I hope so, Son. Myra and the kids need to know that as well.”

An odd feeling filled Tuck. He was chilled and warmed at the same time. Guilt swirled in his mind and mixed with embarrassment.

The silence returned. Tuck paid the check, and as the two left, he placed an arm around his father's shoulders. “You know, for a really, really, really old man, you're pretty smart.”

“A man is only as old as others make him feel.”

“Hey, are you trying to lay another guilt trip on me?”

Ben smirked. “No. You make me feel young. Young and proud.” . . .