Zero-G (40 page)

Tuck had had to peel his family from him. “I have one more thing to do.” They resisted and he longed for nothing more than to ride with them back to Edwards, but other lives were at stake.

The vision of them staring at him as the helicopter took flight haunted him. He had broken their hearts again, and the guilt of it ate at him like a piranha. As they crossed the short air distance from the container to the SpaceVentures complex, something drew his attention to the present.

“Someone has moved the Citation.” Tuck was so close to hanging out the open door of the Super Stallion that Riggins had taken hold of his arm.

“Hey, Commander?” It was the pilot. “I'm getting word from Edwards that someone has been trying to reach you over your aircraft . . . spacecraft radio.”

“Is there a message?” Tuck turned his attention to the pilot who flew the large helicopter just a few hundred feet above the ground. “Roger. Someone named Roos is hailing you.”

“Ask your man to get a sit rep.”

“Will do, Commander.”

Tuck again leaned out the open door. He could feel the powerful downdraft of the rotors. If it weren't for the communications in the helmet he wore, Tuck wouldn't be able to hear a word.

“Commander, a man named Roos says everyone in the hangar is fine. Someone named Quain and Jim Tol-son have taken off in the business jet. He said Quain is armed.”

“You know those names?” Riggins asked.

“Tolson is one of the good guys. Quain is the man we want. I'm guessing that he took Jim hostage to fly the jet.”

“Then why isn't it moving?”

“You don't know Jim.” Before Tuck could start another sentence, the Citation's door opened and the automatic airstairs descended. A second later, a man appeared — the man who had driven him to the launch and who had abducted his family. He looked dazed, and even at a distance Tuck could see he was bloodied. He staggered down two steps, then took note of the helicopter.

“Watch it, he's got a gun!” Tuck ducked his head inside just in time. A round bounced off the skin of the copter in a glancing blow. Tuck moved to another window as the chopper banked away.

“Should have brought a gunner, Colonel.”

Riggins swore. “I would have had I known we were going to be shot at.”

“Wait,” Tuck shouted. “He's down.” Just before the craft banked, Tuck saw another man appear at the door, pause, and then leap toward Quain just as he pulled the trigger. He had just enough time to see both men tumble down the steps and onto the runway. “Down, put us down.”

“Colonel?” The pilot looked to Riggins for confirmation.

“Put her down, Marine, and make it quick.”

The helicopter was still two feet off the runway when Tuck sprang from it and charged the two men. Twenty feet away, he recognized Jim Tolson and could see he was injured. Quain punched him several times, punches that landed without the slightest defense from Jim. Quain struggled to his feet, raised the handgun, and aimed at Jim's head.

To Tuck, it felt as if he had tackled a barrel of concrete, but he put all he had into it. He and Quain hit the ground hard, Quain landing face first, and Tuck rolling over him. Pain ricocheted through his body, but he forced himself to rise and charge again. Quain still had the gun and tried to raise it. Tuck launched his body at the assailant again. This time, he managed to hold onto the man. Tuck's head hit the concrete and the edges of his vision darkened. He shook his head to drive the pending unconsciousness away. Still rattled, it took a moment for him to notice that someone else had joined him. He looked up to see Colonel Riggins with a well-placed boot on Quain's wrist.

“Can you hold him?”

“Oh, yeah. No problem. He's not going anywhere.”

Tuck moved to Jim, who lay gazing up into the darkening blue sky. Blood slowly pooled beneath his right shoulder and oozed from the exit wound in his stomach.

“Did . . . did you get 'im, Tuck?”

“We got him, Jim. You did great.”

“I wish I . . . could fly one more time . . .”

“Stay with me, Jim. You stay with me. Do you hear?” Tuck slapped his friend's face.

“Where never lark . . . nor even eagle flew . . . And, while with silent lifting mind I've trod . . .” He coughed blood.

Tears ran hot down Tuck's cheeks. He tried to finish the poem that had meant so much to him and any pilot: “The high, untrespassed sanctity of space, Put out my hand and . . .

“. . . and touched the face of God.” Jim raised a hand to the sky. It dropped to the ground.

“No. No.” Tuck lowered his head. “Not again.” He pulled Jim's head back, opened his mouth, placed his own mouth over his friend's, and blew. He started chest compression. “One . . . two . . . three . . .” Every compression reminded him of the same act he performed on Jess on the flight deck of
Atlantis
. Now as then, he prayed between every compression and every breath.
Please, God.

EPILOGUE

Six months later

The feast of finger foods were once again served by Ted Roos. This time the gathering was small and the only people present were there by special invitation.

“Nice spread, Mr. Roos,” Riggins said.

“Eat up. I owe you and Commander Tucker a great deal.”

“Careful who you tell to eat up. Those Marines over there will lick the plates clean.”

Roos laughed. “Let them. They all played a part in saving lives and my business.”

“They're good men — just don't let them know an Air Force colonel said so.” Riggins popped a deviled egg in his mouth. “So no crowds this time?”

Roos shook his head. “No, this is my way of saying thanks.”

“I can think of another way. I'm still a little confused. What was Quain's motive?”

“Money and revenge. His skills in synthetic biology allowed him to create a bioagent that he could use to kill an individual or thousands at a time. That made it valuable to many people around the world. Of course, he couldn't sell it here, since biological warfare is governed in the US by strict treaty — at least technically.”

“Technically.”

“Anyway, he had several buyers including North Korea, a couple of Middle Eastern players, and others. However, the money he was asking demanded proof of usability. So, driven by that ego of his, he set up an impossible assassination: killing astronauts two hundred miles in space. He did it by contaminating dermal patches manufactured by MedSys. Since he worked there, it was an easy thing for him to do. Dermal patches release their meds slowly, so Tuck and the others wouldn't feel the effects of the bioagent until well into the mission.”

“Except Commander Tucker lived.”

“The feds are guessing that that was a sore spot. While he did manage to kill most of his targets, he failed with the key player. I doubt his buyers knew this, but he had borne a grudge against Tuck for years. Tuck tells me he had long forgotten about it. He said the ear should have been a clue, but he never made the connection.”

“So to get top dollar, he decided to prove his product by killing all the members of your first official flight?”

“Except he wanted Tuck alive. Quain was a sick man. He decided that making Tuck suffer was more fun than killing him, and he could still prove his point by killing only those he wanted to.”

“So he tried to take out the secretary of state?” Rig-gins took a sip from a water bottle and declined the temptation of champagne.

“Burke was just one target. The feds think Quain was paid for that as well as for Daki Abe. Certain Chinese interests had a problem with the Japanese businessman's tactics. They wanted him out of the way.”

“It's all nuts. The world is nuts. This guy takes money from US enemies, creates a weapon of death, and still has time to try and bleed you dry.”

“And he almost did it. I transferred every dollar I had to his offshore accounts.”

“He certainly covered his bases. The man had to be insane.”

“Fortunately, there are still some good people in the world.” Roos looked at his watch. “Come on, it's almost time.”

“It's hard to believe you're up and running again in just six months.” Riggins strolled to the large monitors in the hangar.

“The vehicles were fine . . . well, my jet took a bit of a beating, but repairs were made. The hard part was clearing my name. Once that was done, sponsors began to come forward, and we're back in business.”

“What about your first passengers? I read about the lawsuit.”

“Only Ginny Lin sued, and we settled out of court. Burke wants to fly again, as do Donnelly and Abe. In fact, Abe has contributed a substantial amount of money to keep things going. Your medics and the doctors did a great job keeping them alive. It's fortunate that Tuck reentered when he did. Had he waited as Quain demanded, the passengers would have all died in space.”

“Just like on
Atlantis
.”

Roos agreed. “I think that was one of Quain's points. He wanted Tuck to relive the whole tragedy. We owe Tuck a lot, and Jim. And of course, we owe Verducci our very lives. Not many men will sacrifice themselves for strangers.”

Colonel Riggins reached for another deviled egg. “Don't forget Alderman, another of Quain's victims.”

“He died from the beating Quain gave him. Sad really. He saved a lot of lives.”

Riggins pursed his lips. “You've done an amazing thing here. I don't think I'll ever get used to the idea of space tourism. I hate flying airliners.”

Roos laughed. “Everyone hates flying airliners.”

“All right, folks. Here we go. The next few minutes will be the most exciting ride of your life.” Lance switched the mike so he could talk to Tuck without others hearing.

“I have an odd sense of déjà vu.”

“Considering all you've been through, it's a good feeling to have. You were one sick puppy for a while.”

“Thanks to you, it wasn't permanent.”

“Don't get mushy on me now. It'll ruin your reputation.”

“Let it. For once in my life, I don't mind riding second seat.” Lance reached across the console and gave Tuck a friendly slug on the shoulder.

“Pitching now. Stand by for release.”

Jim Tolson's voice sounded good to Tuck. It had taken two surgeries, a week in the hospital, and three months of physical rehab, but Jim was back at the controls of
Condor
. The bullet that had entered his shoulder had pierced his lung and large intestine but had missed the descending aorta — by an inch.

“Oh, and Tuck, this time try and land at the right
airfield.”

“Will do, Jim. Will do.”

A few moments later,
Legacy
dropped from beneath
Condor
and did a ten-second freefall to the excited squeals of the passengers.

The rockets engaged, propelling
Legacy
to space. Once the fuel had depleted and they were in low-Earth orbit, Lance began his spiel. Ten minutes later, he freed the passengers to release their harnesses and enjoy zero-G. One passenger floated to the cockpit and raised her visor.

“I think I understand now, Dad. I think I finally get it. It is so beautiful.” Penny's smile matched her father's.

“Hey, you're not letting her drive, are you?” Gary said.

“Shut up, squirt.” Penny pushed back to the cabin.

“Do they always bicker like that?” Lance asked.

“Yeah. Doesn't it sound wonderful?” Tuck looked over the indicators and gauges. “Say, Lance — ”

“Of course, I will. Go back there and enjoy your family for a while.”

Tuck was out of the harness in seconds. “No speeding, okay.”

“No promises, Tuck. No promises.”