Parkowski threw the remote at her boyfriend. “Hey, asshole, time to wake up,” she said over his protest. “There’s something good on TV.”
“What,” he groaned.
The TV feed cut to a young, attractive black woman standing in front of the Aering facility on Imperial Highway — the same one that Parkowski had worked at for the last few years.
The Aering engineer held her water bottle in one hand and pointed with the other. “Hey, I know that place.”
DePresti laughed. “So do I. And we know her, too. It’s my buddy Reggie’s girlfriend.”
Parkowski recognized her as well.
They had just had dinner with them a few weeks ago.
She gave a fairly standard piece on the story, highlighting that the ACHILLES robots had been controlled at this Aering facility in El Segundo, and giving no new information, before handing it back to the main anchor at the cable news network’s flagship location.
“That’s interesting,” DePresti said as the channel went to another commercial break, “but I think we kind of expected that to happen.”
“I know.”
“Well, I think we need to hit the road.”
“You don’t need to tell me twice,” Parkowski said with a grin. “Let’s pack up.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
After a quick dinner at the Preacher Bar in the city of Cape Canaveral, they left at eight on their way back to California.
The two took a different route back, taking I-95 north to I-10 and taking that route all the way west to Los Angeles. From there, they took the same route they had taken weeks before up to Barstow.
Parkowski looked but didn’t see any cars following them.
It was night when they pulled up into the carport at Chang’s homestead. She felt surprisingly rejuvenated despite the long journey.
They had cut an entire day off of their return trip by driving through the first night. One of them drove while the other one slept. They had then slept in a Walmart parking lot in Tucson during the second night and continued their journey the next day. Unfortunately, they got stuck in Los Angeles traffic and didn’t make up to Barstow until just after seven.
Chang’s dog came out to greet them, but there was no sign of the homeowner himself. DePresti’s Subaru was there, looking as good as new. Chang must have had someone come out to fix the bullet holes. The house itself was repaired as well — it didn’t look like it had been through a gunfight just a few days ago.
They walked carefully into it. The lights were off. Parkowski switched them on. From all appearances, the house was deserted. “What now?” she asked DePresti.
“I don’t know,” he answered. There was a brief, uncomfortable pause.
“Should we go check the basement?”
He nodded.
They were just about to reveal the hidden staircase when they heard another vehicle pull up outside.
Parkowski froze.
A moment later, she heard Chang’s familiar boisterous voice outside of the front door, accompanied by two other people, one male, one female, which she didn’t recognize.
Then the door opened. Parkowski tensed — she didn’t know what to expect.
“Hey,” Chang said as he walked in looking no worse for the wear, followed by a man and woman, both in military fatigues.
Parkowski breathed a sigh of relief. If he was walking in that nonchalantly, they were in no danger.
One of them — the woman — Parkowski had seen before. It was DePresti’s commanding officer, Lieutenant Colonel Michelle Thorne.
The man, she knew only by reputation. He was Colonel Hawke, DePresti’s former commander when he worked in the launch unit.
The three stood in front of Parkowski and DePresti.
She stood breathless, not knowing what to expect.
“Well, I guess you’re wondering what’s going on,” Chang said.
Parkowski remained silent. DePresti nodded.
“When the two of you went back into the city, I had a SWAT team come and pay me a visit,” Chang said. “Something to do with FCC violations. I was held in a cell in downtown LA for forty-eight hours and then released with a warning.”
“Was it the same people who attacked us at your house?” Parkowski asked in a softer-than-normal tone.
Hawke shook his head. “From my understanding, no.” He pointed at Chang’s restored living room. “Come, let’s sit down and chat.”
The two senior Space Force officers then gave their side of the story to Chang, DePresti, and Parkowski.
Hawke had been fully read into Bronze Knot since before the launch. Thorne had been read in more recently when Pham had been killed.
Other than Hawke admitting that he knew about the payload swap, they didn’t have much more to add in the way of new information. They just confirmed what Parkowski already knew. Some third-party had a payload that they wanted launched on top of the Shrike Heavy, and they moved the NASA payload off of the mission to put it there.
“So who is behind all of it?” she asked. “And why?”
The two FGOs looked at each other and then back at her. “To be honest, I’m not sure,” Thorne — the less talkative of the two — said.
“There were some weird groups at the launch from the State Department,” Hawke added. “And that’s just the government side. Who knows if there was a private company or companies involved.”
There was an uncomfortable pause.
DePresti asked the question that was on her mind. “So what happens now, sir?”
Hawke gave a small smile. “If the three of you can keep your mouths shut, I think you’re in the clear.”
Parkowski didn’t believe that. “I’ve almost been killed half a dozen times over the course of the last few weeks,” she told Hawke. “And I’m just supposed to drop it and move on, without looking over my shoulder?”
He nodded. “I can’t tell you exactly who told me, but I can stake my professional reputation on that. The powers that be — the ones behind Bronze Knot — recovered your recordings from the cloud and the phone they were taken on and have already cleansed the facility at Aering. The only loose ends are the three of you, and the Department of Defense was able to convince them that having you alive, rather than dead or imprisoned, is in the country’s best interests. So, stop looking into it, don’t tell anyone, and yes, Grace, you can stop looking over your shoulder.”
“So we’ll never figure out what was really launched?” DePresti asked.
“Mike, I don’t know myself. I don’t think any of us ever will.” Hawke responded.
Parkowski didn’t ask any further questions.
Six months — and one proposal — later, in late May, they found themselves again at Rock ‘n Brews in El Segundo. This time, it was for DePresti’s going away. He had been picked up for a special assignment at the National Reconnaissance Office in Chantilly, Virginia, and was leaving the next week to report. Parkowski would be joining him there too, having taken an internal transfer that would take her to Aering’s R&D division located near Dulles International Airport.
It was a perfectly clear night as DePresti and Parkowski left the restaurant, loaded down with going-away presents and plaques, and walked to her Camry. Despite the light pollution from the city, they could see plenty of stars.
Parkowski put down the large plaque she was carrying and looked up.
“What’s up?” her fiancé asked, stopping as well.
“Just wondering, whatever went up there on the ILIAD launch, it’s still up there, right?” the Aering engineer said as she gazed up at the heavens.
“Probably,” DePresti responded.
Parkowski laughed. It was probably a dumb question. “I wonder where it went.”