Kinsella (Kinsella Universe Book 1) (20 page)

“My daughter is aboard
Ad Astra
?  She’s a second year math student at Caltech!  How can she be useful?”

Stephanie ran a finger across her lips, showing that they were zipped.

“Please?” the President asked.  “I’m going to have to explain this to you-know-who.”

“Please actually works,” Stephanie replied.  “Do you remember a young man with an ice cream cone that he used crushed dry ice instead of water ice to make?”

“The adventurous Mars pilot?  Yes.”

“Well, ah... your daughter was quite taken with the gesture, no matter how ill-conceived.  And there was quite a demand for pilots with off-planet experience just then, and he went immediately to another position.”

“And how does that apply to today?”

“Sir, John Malcolm is the most experienced pilot there is.  We hired him to fly
Ad Astra
.  One of his conditions of employment, one that he negotiated privately with me, was that his girlfriend got to come along.  I agreed before I knew who she was.  Then I decided it didn’t really matter, because she’s twenty and he’s twenty-five, both more or less legally adults.

“Or, to borrow one of John Gilly’s sage pieces of political wisdom, what have you done for me lately?”

“That letter comes to mind.”

“A dollar late.  I was thinking earlier about the only way it means anything is if I’ve failed in my basic goal: bringing everyone back.  You’ll pardon me, sir, if I don’t applaud that the only way I can get ahead is, literally, over the corpse of at least one of my superiors.”

“I could take it back, if it makes you uncomfortable,” he told her.

“Sir, we’re causing a scene, having this discussion in public.  It wasn’t my intent.  And if you take the letter back, sir, the terms of our bet is that if I haven’t been proven incompetent when you do, I get free rein with the next ship.”

“There are something like a dozen other ships under construction.  Another dozen in one stage or another of planning.  We already know what you’ll find at Ceti.”

“Blue oceans, white clouds, green plants,” Stephanie agreed with him.  “Chlorophyll green, at that. I imagine every biologist in the country has been fighting to get on the crew.”

“You suggested that we name the science team early and we did.  That’s another one for you, Professor.”

“What say we stop talking, and you let me go out there and make sure the coffee is drinkable and otherwise prepare to get
Ad Astra
ready for this trip?”

“And my daughter?”

“That, sir, is once again a judgment call for the President to make.  I’m sure that if you tell General What’s-his-name to put her ashore, she’ll be put ashore.  Odds are we’ll need a new chief pilot, but we have sextuple redundancy there, sir.  In a pinch, I could do it.  Anna would be an ideal choice, even at this late date.  I’m sure she’d agree to go, even on five seconds notice.  She’s commanded this ship more often than anyone else.”

“You know, every time I turn around, you’ve snuck something new past me.”

“Sneak, sir?  I offer suggestions and you agree or disagree.  Then we make it happen.  If you don’t contemplate all the consequences of those decisions... whose fault is that?”

“Because there are consequences and there are consequences, as you well know.  Go, get aboard.”

Stephanie nodded, then turned to Dick Rampling.  “See, wasn’t that educational, just like your mother said it would be?”

She took a few steps and went through the scanner, ignoring the beeps and alarms.  An officious Air Force colonel appeared.  “Ma’am, you’re required to have a duffel bag.  No pets!”

The President of the United States walked over to the colonel and literally bumped chests with him.  The colonel’s eyes glazed over as he saw the Secret Service agents, coats open in case he took offense.

“For God’s sakes, man!  Are you crazy?  I was an Air Force officer, too.  Do you seriously think I still travel with a duffel bag or a B-5 bag when I can take a wheelie or two?”  He turned to Stephanie.  “Professor Kinsella, do you happen to have a research proposal regarding animals in space?”

Stephanie went into her purse and pulled out a copy and handed it to him.

“Research, you nitwit!  Now get out of the way!” the President said, turning away from the Air Force colonel.

The colonel backed off and the President said to Stephanie, “A personal favor, Professor.”

“I’ll try,” she replied.

“I’d be pleased if my daughter could study under you after you bring her back safely.”

“Already set, sir, for next fall.  General relativity and quantum mechanics.  Two classes.”

“Go with God, Professor.  For God’s sake, I hope you’re all you seem to be!”

Stephanie hummed as she poured herself a cup of coffee.  It was dark and rich, and the smell filled the bridge.  She turned and studied the instruments for a few minutes, still humming softly to herself.  Who would have thought that flying faster than light would induce mild nausea?

The general himself appeared and headed for the coffee service and poured himself a generous mug.  “Professor,” the general said, “another busy day?”

“Life support readings, sir.  Measuring the ability of the scrubbers to remove organic molecules from our air supply.”  She inhaled the steam coming up from her coffee.  “There’s nothing like a good cup of joe, first thing in the morning, General.”

“I’m glad you’ve things to keep you busy,” he said genially, turned and walked away, leaving the bridge.

John Malcolm moved and stopped next to Stephanie.  “I understand you had some words with Erica’s father yesterday.”

Stephanie grinned.  “He and I have had words about any number of things over the years.  You and Erica were there in our fourth conversation, never to reappear until yesterday.  I have to say, I can’t begin to number the intervening words about other things.”

“Thank you, Professor.  I thank you and Erica thanks you.”

Stephanie shook her head.  “Nothing to it, John.  Absolutely nothing to it.”

“Can I tell you a story, out of school?”

She turned to him, as his last words had been almost a whisper.  “Sure, John, talk out of school.  You can, Erica can’t.”

He looked confused for a second, and then decided she was being literal.  “The general toured the bridge for the first time a few weeks ago, just after the first test flight.”

“I heard about that,” Stephanie told him.  “Anna Sanchez has her own way of measuring the worth of men.  For weeks I’ve heard nothing but complaints about how badly he measures up.”

“When Captain Gilly told him I was the pilot, he was instantly curious.  He wanted to see the control stick.”

Stephanie looked at the pilot she’d picked herself.  “He wanted to see the control stick?”  She’d not heard that one!  If she had, things would have been different!

“Yeah.  Erica told me I couldn’t tell anyone, particularly you.  She said that you would draw a line in the sand and her father would never back down.  Neither would you.  Erica is really big on getting back.”

“And you’re big on getting your name in the history books, no matter what the risk.”

John grinned and nodded. “I think we understand each other, Professor.  Still, like Erica, I do have a modicum of common sense and self-preservation.  Which is why I told you just now.”

“Well, perhaps so.  She gets a failing mark in common sense and you simply get failing marks across the board once again.  Twice, John; twice you’ve put everything I’ve worked for at risk.  Never again, do you understand?”

“Am I fired?”

Stephanie laughed.  “I make coffee on the bridge.  I tell the stupid moron what I’m doing and he nods like he understands.  I can’t fire anyone.  Only Erica’s father’s favoritism keeps them from firing me.

“No, I will simply see to it that in anything I have to do with in the future, you’ll not participate in.  Or your whack girlfriend.”

“That’s going to hurt her; she’s done nothing to you.”

“Certainly she has!  You should have told me about the stick incident, just like you should have mentioned your planned side-trip.  You take unacceptable risks with the mission, John.  You boldly go where no man has gone before, ignoring the risks.  Ignorant of the risks... and not asking for advice.”

“I’m your best pilot.”

“A cannonball, nonetheless.  A loose cannonball.”

He laughed.  “I have to say, I’ve never had a conversation with you that has gone like I expected.”

“Think about one thing, John.  I’ve never had a conversation with you where you did anything other than what I expected.”

She turned and walked away, leaving John Malcolm to mull over her words.  Erica was aboard because he’d asked for her, not the other way around.  So, at one point in time, he’d had value for Stephanie Kinsella.  Now, he didn’t.  What was the difference?

He laughed.  What part of the English language don’t you understand, John Malcolm?  She’d told him straight up, and he was so full of himself he hadn’t recognized it.  She’d forgiven him for going to Mars; that was clear.  She didn’t give a rat’s ass about contamination of Mars, one way or the other.  Ten dozen scientists, push come to shove, had explained that Mars was downwind from an Earth that was daily bombarded by the solar wind and other energetic particles.  Bacteria and viruses had been making the trip on a routine basis for billions of years.

Even when they had gotten out to supposedly virgin parts of the solar system, earthly bacteria were found to be ubiquitous.

It wasn’t his piloting she had problems with — it was his overall judgment.  And, in retrospect, maybe she had good reason to be pissed at him.  He’d beaten the second Mars expedition by less than three days... and he’d had no idea any such thing had been planned.  And that second expedition had been an attempt at colonization.  They had planned to put in a permanent base.

He sighed.  Mars was a planet of vast opportunities, but that expedition didn’t have Stephanie Kinsella running things, and the twelve men and women left behind had numbered three when a relief flight flown by himself six weeks later had rescued the survivors on his second visit to the Red Planet.

He grimaced, remembering those days.  Stephanie had stood in front of the rescue pilots and told them point blank that she was the sole arbiter of when a rescue effort was to be attempted.  And there were a lot of rescues needed... and a lot of people had died because Stephanie Kinsella shook her head and said no.

Look in the mirror, John Malcolm.  Tell yourself exactly how many of those rescue missions would you have volunteered for?  Every last one.  How many did you actually fly?  Two.  The Mars rescue, and the one out to the Fore Trojans.  Who wants a pilot who bats five hundred?  Mars was a slam-dunk, and Kinsella had said a very reluctant yes to the Trojans.  One ship had been lost trying to get those people off and he'd survived because the woman in the seat next to him saw a flash from the main compartment and had hit the control to shut the door without hesitation.

Well, he’d gotten back in the end.  Pity that the other member of his crew had died and all but one of those still alive to be rescued.  Yeah, that had to be counted as a wakeup call.  The Space Service had tried to organize some ships and rescue crews, but the Air Force was still running things back then, and for the most part, those men and women who had gone out had died, as well as those they were trying to rescue.

Then the President himself had intervened and even more Naval officers transferred over to the Space Service.  The number of attempted rescues dropped significantly, but all of a sudden, the rescues were succeeding.  He sniffed in self-derision.  Stephanie Kinsella.  She and John Gilly had organized it, with Captain Gilly leading the way.

Erica appeared and handed him one of the navigational estimates.  “How did it go?” she whispered.

It wasn’t possible to miss the fact that half the bridge crew were listening to them.

“She said I’d never work for her again,” John replied in his normal voice.

“It was my advice.”

“And my decision.  I’m afraid Professor Kinsella’s opinions on the two are famous.  Not to worry; I’ve learned a lot.  She won’t be the only employer out here.”

She gave him an “I’m sorry” glance and left.  John resisted the temptation to take the estimate that the woman he loved had brought him and throw it hard against the nearest solid surface in order to vent a little of the frustration he felt.  Except there were no surfaces in the bridge that didn’t contain important instruments and he doubted if Erica would approve.

He tapped the estimate against his other hand, and then turned to Navy Lieutenant Keith Fogarty, the officer of the watch.

“If you would please, call Colonel Saunders, Professor Kinsella and Mr. Schiller to the bridge conference room.  I have a proposal I want to put to them.”

It went much easier than he expected.  “I want to return to normal space,” John had told the captain of the ship, the designer and the ship’s navigator.  “We will take some readings of our position and match them with our position estimate.  If they are in order, we’ll continue on.”