Zero-G (25 page)

TWENTY-FOUR

A
t precisely 6:00 a.m., a black Lincoln Continental pulled into the parking lot of the hotel and sounded its horn. Tuck didn't need a reminder. He had peered through the drapes every five minutes for the last hour and a half. By his count, he slept all of three hours — he felt it was more than he needed. Adrenaline coursed through his veins and his heart rate was running slightly higher than normal. He felt this way before every flight.

“My ride is here.” He let the drapes fall together again and turned to face his family, who had joined him in the hotel suite. Myra had ordered up room ser vice for the family. Normally, Gary and Penny would complain about the early hour, wanting to stay in bed until high noon. This morning was different. With NASA, he left days before, but since this time he would not be in space for weeks or even days, there was no need for isolation. If he were about to catch a cold or the flu, it wouldn't matter just as long as he was ready to fly in a few hours.

They had assembled around the table in the suite eating scrambled eggs and toast, drinking orange juice and coffee. The conversation had been light, jokes told, but tension filled the room. Everyone knew the dangers of space flight. Although neither Gary nor Penny said anything, Tuck read the fear on their faces and heard it in their muted words.

“I've got to go.” He took Myra in his arms, gave her a kiss, and pulled her tight. He then drew each child in individually, hugging them for long moments, and kissed each on top of their heads. Finally, he embraced his father in a hug that lasted long seconds. Before the two could part, another pair of arms reached around them — they belonged to Myra — then another smaller pair of arms, then another. Another tradition played out.

It had not been asked for, but it came anyway. The long embrace led to bowed heads, and while each one clung to those closest, Benjamin Tucker Sr. began to pray.

“Our heavenly Father, for all things in life, for all the good things we experience, for the love that we share, and for this day, we give You thanks. We ask Your blessing on my son as he undertakes a great task. We pray that You would grant him wisdom and skill, knowledge and understanding, and safe passage through Your space. We pray for his copilot, we pray for his passengers, and we do so knowing that You are with them every second of the journey. And for those of us whose feet are fixed to the ground, whose faces stare skyward, we ask for confidence in Your providence. We as a family ask all of this in Jesus' name. Amen.”

The hug lingered and Tuck could hear Myra sniff and knew she was close to tears. The sound came with the softest echo from Penny. Tuck expected this; it was the same every time. He also learned not to dismiss it. The tears were ribbons of love and of concern — and they also reminded him that the greatest courage was not expressed by those flying in space but by those who waited behind.

Tuck hugged each one again and then moved toward the door. “I'll see you all in about four hours. Don't forget to bring sunscreen and your sunglasses. It may be February and it may be cold, but that's still a desert sun overhead.”

“We will,” Myra said. “You know you don't need to worry about us.”

Tuck opened the door and started across the threshold, then came to a sudden stop. He turned and looked into the moist eyes of his family. “Dad, Myra, I want you to know I've been listening to all that you've been saying. Last night . . .” He paused, lowered his head for a moment, then raised it again. “Last night I did some serious thinking . . . and some serious praying. Me and God, well, we straightened things out.”

Benjamin started to say something, but it caught in his throat. Myra didn't bother trying; she just walked to him and gave him another hug and a long kiss. “Thanks for telling us.”

Tuck wanted to say more, wanted to explain things to the kids, but he knew the words wouldn't come —not now. Maybe later. Tuck closed the door behind him, walked to the exterior stairs of the hotel, and made his way to the ground level. He didn't look back. He knew he couldn't. When he arrived at the car, the driver had the back door open, and Tuck slipped in.

As Tuck fastened his seatbelt, the driver took his place behind the wheel. He seemed youngish and intense. Tuck also noticed the driver had a malformed ear.

The drive to the Mojave spaceport took less than thirty minutes. Tuck watched the desert scenery scroll by as the car moved down a two-lane road. The sky still had a deep blue tint from the dark of the night before, and the air was cold, but thankfully, the previous night's wind was gone.

His years of life in the military, his training as an engineer, and his many years at NASA had given Tuck a disciplined mind. The moment the door to the car had closed, he compartmentalized his thoughts and the emotions that had churned up with his family. By the time the car had reached the street and headed toward its destination, Tuck's mind had focused on the flight that would take place in less than six hours. He'd been through all the procedures before as part of his training. He had flown the simulators, and twice he had taken the craft to the edges of space. All of that would be the same, except this time he had passengers, and that made things different.

As a NASA astronaut, he knew every member of the crew had signed up for the mission. He also knew that each had been highly trained, and each understood the risks they faced. Here things were different. Four untrained individuals would climb aboard
Legacy
, strap themselves in, and turn their lives over to three men. It was one thing to face the dangers of space flight for oneself, but it was an entirely different matter to ferry untrained people into an environment where a single mistake could lead to catastrophe. In many ways, he admired the passengers who were willing to undertake such a journey and paid so much money to do so.

The driver turned the Lincoln down a private road. Tuck had traveled it many times since joining SpaceVentures. The road was arrow-straight, covered in fresh macadam, and normally desolate of all traffic. This morning there were at least a dozen cars in front of them, and Tuck turned to see an equal number following close behind.

On one of Tuck's earlier Shuttle missions, Mission Control had diverted them to Edwards Air Force Base for their landing. Bad weather had made a Florida landing impossible. When he and the crew exited the craft, he was surprised to see hundreds of people lining the roads, spectators who had come as close as possible to watch the Shuttle land. It pleased him to realize there were still many people who felt inspired by space travel. Still, seeing the line of cars on this road surprised him.

“We seem to have rush-hour traffic this morning, Commander.” The driver turned his head only slightly when speaking.

“Ain't that the truth. And you can call me Tuck. No need for ‘Commander' any longer.”

“No, sir, I spent a few years in the Navy. Anyone above lieutenant deserves to carry his rank for life.”

“Another swab, eh? How did you pass your time?”

“Drove an admiral around. If you want to know anything about Washington, DC, restaurants, then I'm your man. I've driven to almost every one.”

“I'll remember that if I'm ever back in DC. So now you're driving around a broken-down astronaut. How did you land this job?”

“I applied for it. I grew up watching the space program and never lost my taste for it. When I learned about this, I did my best to get hired on.”

“So this is a temporary job for you?”

“No, sir. I've been hired to handle the transportation department. Mr. Roos thinks after today's successful launch a lot more people will be signing up to fly. When someone pays a couple hundred thousand for a short trip, they deserve some decent transportation and a trustworthy driver.”

“I didn't know that.”

“No reason you should, sir. You have more important things on your mind.”

“I haven't had much dealing with the business side of things. I focus on the flying.” Tuck rubbed his weary eyes and wished he had at least a couple more hours of sleep.

“How big of a hurry are you in, Commander? You want me to pass some of these larger vehicles or just fall into step?”

Tuck looked at his watch. “No rush. Take your time. We don't want to run the risk of ticking off some potential passenger.”

“Very well, sir. Just let me know if you change your mind.”

“Will do.” Once again, Tuck's eyes fell to the damaged ear on the right side of the driver's head. “What's your name? It doesn't seem right calling you buddy or driver.”

“The name's Quain, sir. Edwin Quain.”

“Well, Edwin, I'm just going to embarrass myself and be rude . . .”

“You want to ask about my ear, is that it?” Quain turned his head to the side and Tuck could see the crumpled ear clearly.

“Tell me if I'm too far out of line.”

“Doesn't bother me, sir. I've lived with it for a lot of years and told the story many a time. What's it look like to you?”

Tuck leaned forward. “I'm no expert, but it looks like a cauliflower ear — the kind of thing a man gets in the boxing ring.”

“Exactly right. I picked up this little gem while doing some amateur boxing in the Navy.” He tapped the ear with his index finger.

“Took a beating?”

“A bit, but you should've seen the other guy. What about you, Commander? You do any boxing?”

Tuck laughed. “I gave it a try during my third year at Annapolis but didn't much like it.”

“Didn't like the sport or didn't like the pain?”

“Didn't like the embarrassment. Got the snot beat out of me by some underclassman. I heard about it for the rest of the year, so I thought I'd save myself any future embarrassment and focus on my studies.”

“I understand. It's not everyone's cup of tea. For me, I rather liked it. I never could figure out if I liked receiving pain or giving pain more.”

The words struck Tuck as odd, and he tried to conceal his displeasure. He assumed he failed when he saw the driver's eyes shift to the rearview mirror then say, “I'm sorry, Commander. It's a boxer thing. I was full of vinegar then. I spent my younger days on the mean streets of Philly. The Navy was my way out.”

“No need to apologize to me, Edwin.”

“I just don't want you to think I'm some kind of nutcase. You know how it is; some people get the wrong idea.”

“Nah, it's not the first time I've heard such things.”

By big-city standards, the traffic on the road wasn't much, but it was enough to bring things to a crawl. Tuck looked at his watch again. “Are you still willing to drive around this mess?”

“Glad to do it. There's no shoulder on the side of the road so I'll have to drive in the oncoming lane. There shouldn't be any cars coming this way. I'll keep an eye out for fast approaching Greyhound buses and eighteen-wheelers.” He chuckled.

“Thanks, I appreciate that. My kids tend to get a little upset when I return home all battered and bloodied.”

“Yeah, that can be off-putting.” Quain pulled the Lincoln into the oncoming lane and accelerated.

Off-putting?
Tuck thought the driver's conversation and vocabulary odd and a degree or two higher than he might expect from a professional chauffeur — not that a chauffeur couldn't have a good command of the English language, but it still struck him as out of place.

A few minutes later, they approached a gate manned by two uniformed security guards. The guards stopped each car and appeared to ask for identification and a printed pass. The other guard noticed the Lincoln in the wrong lane and moved to the other side of the gate, the one used for exiting, and lifted the cantilever barricade. Once the bar had reached its full height, he waved the Lincoln in.

“How's that for ser vice?” Quain gave a quick look over his shoulder and flashed a smile.

“As good as it gets. I assume the car has an ID somewhere.” Tuck was relieved to be on the grounds; his mind churned with the preparation before him.

“Yes, sir. I'm carrying a small transmitter that identifies me and the vehicle. That's why the guy didn't stop us.”

The driver pulled through the gate and turned on a long dirt path that ran behind several rows of parked cars, pickup trucks, and more motor homes than Tuck could count. Spectators gathered in clumps, parents held the hands of children, young couples walked hand-in-hand. From cars and motor homes poured the sounds of clashing music. To Tuck, it all looked like barely controlled bedlam.

“Man, I didn't expect this large a crowd this early.” Tuck's head swiveled as he tried to take in the sight.

“There were people at the gate before sunrise. By the time I left to pick you up there must've been over a hundred people present.”

“Looks like they came ready for a tailgate party.”

“They won't get in your way, Commander. Security has confined them to this one area.”