“We know that.” Stice exhaled and turned to the President. “From what we know, sir, Athena is about to deploy a very sophisticated satellite for the Australian government. We are looking at two hundred million for the satellite and another thirty million for the rocket. We can’t just go in and blow it away, can we?”
Pruett inhaled deeply; his ulcer was growing out of control. He desperately wanted to reach in his pocket for the pack of antacid tablets, but decided against it. “Conjecture? I think not,” he responded in a tone as casual and controlled as he could make it. “It all depends on how you look at the data, Mr. Secretary. I don’t believe in coincidence, and there have been just too many related incidents to ignore them and write them off as coincidence. Also, let’s all remember the fact that Lightning is in trouble just as the evidence indicated it would be. In my opinion, Lightning’s problems are all the physical proof we need. Gentlemen, the data here is telling us that something is definitely wrong. Cameron Stone’s — and Marie Guilloux’s — testimony simply brings it all together.”
The President, Pruett, and Cameron remained quiet as the others explored the alternatives and gave their various opinions on how the situation should be handled.
Finally, the President got up and walked toward the bulletproof windows that looked out on the White House Rose Garden. The yellowish light from the halogen floodlights outside filtered through the Armorlite glass. The President simply stared outside, chin up, hands behind his back. The room was now quiet. Each person there knew that the President had listened to all that he’d cared to, and was now in the process of formulating his own response to the crisis.
The President turned around and faced Pruett. “Has anyone notified NASA of this?”
“No, sir.”
“What about the FBI? Do they know anything about this?”
“A couple of technicians from the analysis lab were involved in the investigation to find the mole, sir.”
“All right, I’ll make sure the appropriate people know about this, if that’s the route we take. In the meantime keep a lid on the whole thing.”
“Yes, sir”
“Tom, like always, you have explained the situation clearly and concisely. Damn good briefing.”
“Thank you, Mr. President.”
“And also thank you, Mr. Stone.”
“You’re welcome, Mr. President.”
“Now, if you don’t mind, I would like to discuss our options with my staff. Go back to Langley. I’ll get the word to you on our decision.”
“Yes, sir.”
Pruett left the map and photos on the board and simply grabbed his briefcase and signaled Cameron to follow him.
They closed the door behind them. Pruett dropped the briefcase and reached into his pocket
“Tom?”
“Yeah,” he responded as he chewed on the tablets.
“I think my involvement in this is over. I did what I was supposed to have done. Now it’s up to you guys to—”
“Stick around for a little while. Who knows, things might get interesting.”
“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of.”
“Stick around anyway. Besides, if things do get interesting, we’ll also need Marie’s help.”
“Why her? I think she’s already been through enough.”
“She used to work at the Kourou site, right?”
“Yes but — wait a second, Tom I don’t want to expose her to—”
“Relax. All we might want is some intelligence on the launch complex before we move in, if we move in at all.”
Cameron sighed and checked his watch. Marie’s plane was due to arrive between noon and one P.M.
Cameron paced back and forth by the gate as the passengers from the TWA DC-10 left the airliner. Although he felt very excited about seeing Marie, the professional in him kept him from showing it externally. Pruett was right. As much as Cameron wanted to end his involvement in the case, the problem was still far from over. A conspiracy threatened to destroy America’s future in space. Cameron knew he had to hang on for just a little while longer.
Then he stopped his pacing and turned toward the gate. The eyes, the face. He saw her smile the moment Marie recognized him and rushed past startled travelers and into his arms. Cameron closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, feeling Marie’s body pressed next to his. No words were spoken.
“I was so afraid,” she finally whispered in his ear. “I didn’t know if you—”
“Shh. I’m fine, Marie, and so are you.”
“You don’t know what it was like to—”
“Don’t worry. I won’t leave you again. I promise.”
Marie hugged him tight. Cameron didn’t resist. His logical side could wait while his soul bathed in the love he had not felt for nearly two decades.
CHAPTER TWELVE
EVA
“My God, the stars are everywhere, even below me.”
Inside the airlock between mid-deck and the payload bay, Kessler helped Jones into his Extravehicular Mobility Unit, a self-contained life-support system and anthropomorphic pressure garment that provided not only thermal protection to the astronaut during extravehicular activities, but also protection against micro-meteoroids. Usually astronauts put these suits on without assistance in free space, but Kessler figured Jones could use the help during his first time suiting up in a weightless condition. Three main parts made up the suit — the liner, the pressure vessel, and the life-support system.
Jones didn’t need Kessler’s help to get into the suit liner, similar in appearance to long underwear. The liner was made of stretchable nylon fabric laced with over three hundred feet of plastic tubing to circulate cooling water around Jones’s body.
Jones took a final breath of one-hundred-percent-pure oxygen from a plastic mask. The one-hour pre-breathing procedure prior to EVA was necessary because the normal atmosphere inside the orbiter consisted of seventy-nine percent nitrogen and twenty-one percent oxygen at a pressure of 17.4 pounds per square inch, the same as sea level. Jones’s pressure suit, for ease of movement, operated at a reduced pressure of only four PSI with one hundred percent oxygen. Pre-breathing removed all of the nitrogen from Jones’s bloodstream, preventing bubbles of nitrogen from forming and expanding in his blood when his suit’s pressure dropped to four PSI. The nitrogen bubbles could cause nausea, cramps, and sever pain in the joints.
Kessler held on to the legs of the lower torso section of the pressure vessel. Jones dropped into it feet first, guiding his legs into the legs of the multilayered garment that protected the lower half of his body. The outer shell of the garment was made of tough Ortho fabric — a blend of Teflon, woven Nomex, and Kevlar Rip Stop — that served as an abrasion and tear-resistant cover as well as the primary micro-meteoroid shield. The other layers were alternating Aluminized Mylar Film and Dacron Scrim that insulated the wearer from the extreme temperatures of outer space.
Jones held on to the metallic locking ring of the lower torso section of the EMU suit while Kessler grabbed the upper torso section from the rack behind him.
“Ready?”
“You bet.”
Kessler lowered it over Jones almost like a T-shirt. Jones put his arms through the holes until it floated over his shoulders.
“Damn! This is great. One hell of a lot easier than down where the buffalo roam.”
Kessler smiled. Donning this 250-pound beast of a suit on Earth was a formidable task, yet in the weightlessness of space it became simple. Kessler locked the pants and upper torso with the metallic ring connector.