Red Thunder (31 page)

"We told you about my fiasco in the 'Glades. That wasn't any flaw in
the bubble technology, it was caused by us not knowing how much energy
would be released, and how fast, by Jubal's... by what we're calling
the Phase Field Interrupter. The PFI. We got it calibrated now, I can
release energy accurately down to one percent.

"I told you the PFI makes a pinhole in the bubbles. That's not
strictly accurate. Jubal showed me the math but it was beyond me. What
it does, it puts a twist in space so the matter trapped and squeezed
inside the bubble makes a little trip through another
dimension—and I'm not even sure if it's the fifth or the sixth
dimension—"

"Fift," Jubal said. I was surprised, I'd almost forgotten he was there.

"If you say so. The energy twists through some sort of wormhole and
travels a distance much shorter than the diameter of a proton, and ends
up in our universe, and when it gets here it produces thrust. I know
this is hard stuff, I can go back..."

"Go on," Sam said, and my mother nodded.

"That's just about it. We couldn't get the bubbles to blow up, or
release any energy at all, except with Jubal's PFIs... and they're the
only ones on Earth, so far as we know. If someone else has one, they're
being as careful as we are, because there is absolutely no sign that
anyone but Jubal is aware of this new branch of physics.

"What I'm saying... in a long-winded way, sorry... I consider the
engine part of this rocket to be as safe as any source of power can
ever be. Foolproof. Lots safer than a VStar, which is pretty safe.

"But when we light one of these off, we'll get thrust that will be applied to... well, to a ship I'm
far
from confident about.

"This will be our problem. Very simply, the quicker we get there and
get back, the happier I'll be. Space is an incredibly hostile
environment, and the longer we're out there the better chance of
something going wrong. Assuming we go at all, of course."

Again, a silence. Travis had his arms on his knees and was staring at the floor. Jubal was nodding quietly. Then Sam spoke.

"A shorter trip is better, right? Safer?"

"Shorter in time, yes. Up to a point. We could boost harder, but
that would stress the ship more, and it wouldn't be any fun for us,
either."

"How long you figure on staying?"

"One week in space, and about a week on the ground."

"Three weeks total, then?"

"Oh, no, that's one week total travel time, there and back."

Sam frowned and shook his head.

"Don't seem possible. Mars is so far away."

"We'll be doing three million miles an hour, Sam."

"How can you go that fast?" Mom wanted to know. "I'd expect it'd kill you."

"We won't even feel it. We won't even be able to tell we're moving."

Mom shook her head again, and stood up.

"I'll never understand it." She grimaced, then tried to smile. "I'm
sorry I'm acting like such a bitch, Manny, and all y'all. It just
scares me. But... I'm really impressed at what y'all have got done. I
almost felt convinced there, for a minute."

"You will be convinced, Betty," Travis said solemnly.

"Not likely. Anyways, I'd best be getting home. 'Night, folks."

Sam joined her, and Travis and Kelly and the others took them out
the door. I could hear them talking on the way down the stairs. Myself,
I didn't want to face her just then, I might say something I'd regret.

So I sat there for a while, looking at the model ship. It was weird,
but it had its own beauty. I imagined her lifting off on a pillar of
flame....

NEXT THING I knew, Travis was shaking my shoulder. I'd fallen asleep in my chair.

"Nobody here now but us chickens," Travis said. "Fill your coffee
cups and join me at the table in five minutes. We've got some talking
to do, but it won't take long."

I made a very strong cup of espresso and fumbled my way back to the table.

"Manny, you're looking like a raccoon," Travis said.

"It's just my Jimmy Smits eyes, Travis," I said.

"Jimmy Smits after a three-day bender, maybe. How much sleep are you getting?"

"Travis, I haven't got more than six hours of sleep a night since I was ten."

"Four hours? Three?"

Two, the previous night. Never more than four the last two weeks.

I knew it was a problem, but I didn't know what to do about it. Even
with Eve helping out, Mom and Maria couldn't get everything done every
day without my help. We were in the middle of another financial
emergency. Business was just enough to make too much work without being
enough to keep us out of the red. But I didn't see any reason to bother
Travis with all that.

"Never mind," he said. "I know how to fix it." The others found their way to the table and sat down.

"Good news first," he began. "First-rate presentation. If I was an
investor, I might actually put some money into this venture. Not a
lot
of money, you understand. Because I did notice some weak spots, and
some spots you got through maybe a little quicker than you should have.
But all in all, great.

"Now the bad news. You're not going to be able to do it. Not as
things stand. We can shut it down now... or we can make some changes."

We all looked at each other. I honestly hadn't expected that. I thought we were going to get the green light.

"What kind of changes?" Dak asked suspiciously.

"Bring in some help. Help from the family."

"The Broussard family?"

"Exactly..." He stopped, and lowered his head, then looked up again.

"Sorry. There was one item of business I meant to cover first. Back up a minute. We've got to figure out who's in charge here."

"Who's in..." Alicia looked around at us. "It's you, isn't it?"

"So far, I figure we're a limited democracy. Limited, because I told
you I have to make the final go, no-go decision... aided by Jubal, who
has the only vote that counts about that. And I did set that one
condition, that your parents had to be aware of what we're doing.
Sorry, Kelly."

Kelly shrugged. She wasn't likely to ever join Travis's fan club,
but over the last weeks she seemed to have resigned herself to not
going. She seemed to be putting herself into the work wholeheartedly.
At least, if this was how hard she worked when she was
half
hearted, then wholehearted would be a wonder to see.

"I nominate myself to be captain of this boat. That means, I make
the final decisions on how the ship is made and I'm in charge of the
mission from Earth liftoff to Earth landing, with the powers of a
ship's captain as established in space law."

"Second the nomination," Alicia said.

"All in favor..." I said, and everybody said, "Aye."

"Thank you," Travis said. "It probably sounds silly to you, but it's like the contract we signed. It
has
to be written down. Some situations we could get into, I'd need to expect... to
count
on... total, unquestioning obedience, just like a Navy ship of the
line. Get your dad to tell you how that works, Dak, and fill the others
in."

"Will do, Captain Broussard."

This time Travis didn't correct us, as he had done when we called
him Colonel. I realized he was dead serious, and I figured he was
probably right.

"Here on the ground I'm not a dictator, okay? You can question
orders, refuse orders, even jump ship entirely, fold up your tent and
go home if you don't like the way I'm doing things. But after launch,
if I issue orders I will expect them to be obeyed."

Nobody objected.

"Fine. Next, I nominate Kelly to be project manager."

"Thanks, Travis," Kelly said, with a look that could melt through steel.

"She will be in control of building the ship. She will coordinate
everything, she'll have to be familiar with all the hundreds of tasks
this project entails."

"I second the nomination," I said. There was a chorus of ayes again.

"Which is pretty much what I've been doing"—she held up her
hand to silence Travis—"and yes, I agree it needed to be
formalized. So I accept. And I have a suggestion to make." She turned
to Alicia.

"You've done a great job on the environment systems. But now I'd
like you to turn your work over to Manny and Dak. I want you to go
full-time on the medical stuff we discussed a few days ago. By launch
time, I want you to be qualified as an EMT. You'll be the medical
officer."

"Great idea," Travis said.

"Well... okay," Alicia said. She seemed a little conflicted, worried
that Kelly was pushing her out of work she wasn't qualified for, but
relieved at the same time to be back at work she could understand. She
already had some training as a nurse, and she was a natural for it.

"Anything else?" Kelly asked, and I realized she had taken over the
meeting. Which was exactly what Travis had wanted and expected.

"Yeah," Dak said. "I got a question for Trav... sorry, for the captain."

"Don't worry about the captain stuff till we're aboard," Travis said.

"Whatever. I hope this isn't out of line, you don't have to answer
it if you don't want to... anyway, you say you're worried the
Ares Seven
will blow up... and your ex-wife is aboard. I figure I'd be pushing
this thing a little harder, maybe be willing to take some chances...
you know what I'm saying?" Dak looked embarrassed to have brought it
up. But it had bothered all of us.

"No problem, Dak, you've got every right to ask about that." He took
a deep breath. "It was a messy divorce, friends. I don't love her
anymore, don't even like her very much. We'd probably have broken up
anyway, even without the drinking... but it was the drinking did it.
That's why I barely have any visitation rights with the girls. And the
judge was right. I was the party at fault, even though she
is
a bitch.

"And she is still the mother of my daughters, and I want her to stay
alive if for no other reason than that. Her death would hurt them. For
that matter, I want them
all
to stay alive and healthy... but
we can't do it by blasting off in a home-built spaceship and then die
freezing when it falls apart.

"The morals of rescuing people are hard to define precisely. You
hear about it, three or four people drowning, trying to save one guy
who may already be dead. Helicopters crashing trying to pull people off
the roofs of burning buildings. If I'm going down a cliff face to
rescue a stranded mountain climber, I have the right, even the
obligation,
to see that my rope is sound. Do you see what I'm saying?" Dak nodded, looking embarrassed.

"The odds of rescuing the
Ares Seven
if a disaster
does
happen... the odds are terrible." I think we were all surprised, though
I had wondered about it. "Most accidents I can envision would kill them
all, instantly. But say there are survivors and they're just drifting,
helplessly, with no rocket to power them... just
finding
them
is highly problematic. You can't really imagine how vast space is, even
here in the cozy little solar system. Friends, what we'd all better do
is cross our fingers and hope Jubal is wrong, because our chances of
rescuing them are small."

We all thought that one over. None of us liked the sound of it.

"So this idea of being there to get them out of a jam..." I said,
and didn't know how to finished the sentence. Travis did it for me.

"...is the only reason I'm still in this at
all,
and the only reason I will push as hard as any of you, maybe
twice
as hard, to get this thing built and on its way. I want them to live,
so badly that I'm buying into what is probably the most cockamamie idea
since Queen Isabella hocked the crown jewels."

"Sorry, Travis," Dak said.

"Don't be sorry. When in doubt, ask. Any more questions?"

"I've got one," I said. "Dak and I are stumped when it comes to
space suits." I told him my notion that unless we stood on the Martian
surface, our trip would be suspect. He grinned slowly, and then slapped
me on the shoulder.

"You're a worrier, Manny, aren't you? Well, the funny thing is, I
think you may have a point there. But I got an order for you. Stop
worrying. About the suits anyway. I'm putting myself in charge of suits
from this moment, and you are not to think of it again until you see
them. Okay?"

"Okay." Worrier? Well, I guess so. My life thus far had certainly prepared me to be a world-class worrier.

"All right, boys and girls, class dismissed. Go home, get some sleep, I'll see you back here tomorrow morning.

"And you know what? Maybe we've got a chance of going to Mars!"

I HAD THOUGHT we were operating in high gear the two weeks Travis was gone. Turns out I didn't even know what high gear was.

Early the next day Travis sent me and Kelly out to the airport to
meet a plane full of Broussards. We went to the general aviation
terminal, got there just as a Gulfstream private jet was landing. First
out was Caleb Broussard, followed by Grace and Billy. Then we were
introduced to Exaltation "Salty" Broussard. He was a small, quiet man,
almost completely bald, and didn't look anything like Jubal and Caleb.

Last out of the plane was Gloria Patri "Patty" Broussard-Wilson, an
attractive blonde in her late thirties who could have been Caleb's
fraternal twin. She was the pilot of the plane. It belonged to her
employer and she had borrowed it for a few days, to pick up Caleb and
Grace in Fort Myers and Salty in Huntsville, Alabama, so they could all
drop in and visit brother Jubal and cousin Travis. She let me and Kelly
go aboard and look around while the baggage was being unloaded. There
was a bar, a full-service media center, and all the way in back, a
bedroom. This is the way to travel, I decided.

Kelly... well, Kelly had been riding in a plane much like this for
as long as she could remember. Her father and a few other businessmen
leased one together, the price tag for one of these babies being a bit
steep even for a Mercedes dealer.