Green Comet

Continuing the serial release of The Plainsrunner under a Creative Commons Attribution Share-Alike license – (CC-BY-SA).

Tallgrass and Seagrass learn that the academy has higher goals for them.

Please join in the conversation. And subscribe so you don’t miss anything. Also, hit the Like button. Not sure what it does, but I’ll probably like it.-)

rjb

Chapter Thirty-Four – The Offer

Tallgrass glanced at the window. “In this building?” he asked, picking up a granola biscuit.

“What?” said Trueway. Then he laughed. “No,” he said. “Not in this building.”

While Tallgrass was enjoying his biscuit, Seagrass said, “You mean up there, don’t you?” He pointed skyward. “You mean in space.”

Tallgrass stopped chewing and stared at Trueway, who said, “Yes. That’s exactly what I mean.”

Tallgrass swallowed a lump and said, “Outer space. You’re saying that you’re offering us the chance to go to outer space.”

“That’s right,” said Trueway. “Much of the crew has already been selected. Actually three crews. The number one, the backup and the spare. If the first crew can’t go – say someone on the crew catches an infectious disease – then the backup goes. The spare is for redundancy.”

“And you say they’ve already been selected.”

“Yes. The flight crews have been filled with candidates who have a lot of experience with all kinds of aircraft. They were selected from thousands of applicants.”

Tallgrass talked around a bite of biscuit. “How big will the crew be?”

“Eight. Four on each vessel. Mission specialists and their supervisor.”

Tallgrass nodded. “The mission specialists take care of mechanicals, electronics, communications, and so on,” he said.

“That’s right,” said Trueway. “In actuality, by the time the training is complete and we’re ready to go, everyone should be able to do everybody else’s job. But in normal circumstances everyone sticks to their designated activities.”

“We?” said Tallgrass. “You said we. Are you on the crew?”

“No,” said Trueway. “That was just a figure of speech.” He glanced away at the window, avoiding their eyes. “I didn’t even apply. Didn’t even think of it.” He looked back and shrugged. “Just too scary.”

Tallgrass grinned. “But you don’t think it would be too scary for us?”

“No, in fact, I don’t. Of course, any sane person would be scared. But I don’t think that would stop you.”

Tallgrass and Seagrass looked at each other and nodded. “You’re right,” said Tallgrass. “It wouldn’t. But I’ve never even thought of going. I thought there would be plenty of people more qualified to do it. And you say they want us? Why?”

“Well, they don’t want you specifically,” said Trueway. “They just asked if there was anyone at the Academy who might want to try out. Naturally, I thought of you two. There will be about two dozen others, and you’ll be competing for six positions. Two on each crew.”

“So, even if we’re successful, maybe only one of us will get to go?”

“That’s right,” said Trueway.

Tallgrass and Seagrass looked at each other for a long time, then they nodded and Tallgrass said, “We’ll have to think about it, of course, but it sounds interesting. How long do we have to decide?”

“Until the end of the week,” said Trueway. “Let me know what you decide by then, and I’ll pass it on. After that, the selection team will descend on you and you’ll wonder what hit you.”

When Tallgrass called her with the news, Sage was not surprised. When her son went away to the Space Academy, she always had the feeling that he wouldn’t end up being ground crew. She just assumed that he would be going out there. Even so, when the chance became real it was still a shock. She asked, “Have you decided already?” When he said he hadn’t, she said, “Wait. I’m coming down there. Please wait before you make a decision.”

“You don’t have to do that, Mom,” he said. “You don’t have to come all the way down here. What about your work?”

“My work can manage without me for a few days. It’s not every day your son tells you he might be going into outer space. I want to see you. And I want to be with you while you make this decision.”

It made Tallgrass feel impatient, and frustrated, that his mother still felt he needed her to take care of him. He’d been out on his own for years. He could take care of himself. It also made him feel good. It was her fierce, protective love that he had felt all his life, and it was more important than his bruised pride. “Of course,” he said, “I’d love to see you.”

Tallgrass was embarrassed. They were in Trueway’s office, and the Professor was treating Sage as if she were a celebrity and he was her fan. He knew his mother was a celebrity. They had that running joke about her being the celebrity astronomer. But this was too much. The Deputy Director had already gushed about her astronomical papers, and now he was bringing out copies of her books for her to sign. Tallgrass decided if he mentioned her spear and necklace, then he was going to wait out in the hallway until it was over.

Sage handled it graciously. She didn’t try to act as if he was the first person to behave this way, but neither did she let on that she’d heard it all before. She accepted his compliments and returned them by asking him about the space program, and remarking on his part in it. She said, “This is a very prestigious position.” She looked around his impressive office with its gorgeous view. “And for someone so young.”

He looked flustered, and said, “To tell you the truth, I feel like an imposter. I was barely getting used to being a professor when they tapped me for this.” He glanced at Tallgrass before going on. “I keep waiting for them to realize their mistake and come and drag me out of here.”

She laughed at his joke. “Trust me,” she said, “I know just how you feel.” She waved off his protests. “Believe me, I’ve been there.” She reached out and gripped his forearm. “Don’t worry about it. The Director has nothing but good things to say about you.”

“The Director? You talked to the Director? About me?”

“No,” she said, laughing. “Well, yes. We talked about you, but I wasn’t checking up on you or anything. The Director and I go back a long way.”

The awe was back in Trueway’s face. “You knew her before?”

“Yes. Back when she was the head of the Astronomical Society. She would call me about my work, and when she was in town, we’d get together for lunch.”

“Oh!” said Tallgrass. “That lady? I think I remember. She used to bring me presents. She gave me a telescope. Remember?”

“Yes, I do,” she said. “You used it so much that you wore it out.”

“And you got me a better one.”

“I did,” she said, and turned back to Trueway. She said, “So the Director and I talk a lot, and we get together as often as we can. When Tallgrass told me what was happening, I called her.” She looked back at her son. “Not to interfere,” she said. “Just to find out more. Just to …” She grimaced and stopped.

Tallgrass said, “I understand, Mom. It’s okay.”

She was relieved. “Thank you,” she said. She shared a look with her son, then spoke to Trueway. “While we were talking, she mentioned you. That you were talking to Tallgrass and Seagrass. And she said you were good and the agency was lucky to have you.”

“Really?” said Trueway. He looked around his office with new eyes. “She said that about me?” He stood a little straighter.

“Yes,” said Sage. “She told me that she’s pretty sure that you will have her job one day.”

Trueway snorted a surprised laugh. “Now that’s going too far. Me? Director? You’ve got to be kidding.”

“That’s what she said,” said Sage. “Depending on how this project goes, she might have higher ambitions, and you would be a good candidate to move up.”

Trueway looked confused. “Higher ambitions?” he said. “What could be higher than this?”

“I know what you mean,” she said. “I can’t see it myself, but some people are attracted by the scent of politics. Their ambitions are drawn to it. Personally, I can’t imagine any higher calling than science and discovery, but it takes all kinds.”

“Exactly,” said Trueway. “I would take the Director’s job if they offered it to me. Well, not right now. I don’t think I’m ready yet. But later, when I’m ready, I’d take it.” He shook his head. “I can’t imagine using it as a stepping stone, though.”

Sage nodded. “She’s right. The Director. You would be a good candidate for the job. When you’re ready, of course.”

Trueway managed to look embarrassed, scared and pleased all at once. “If you say so,” he muttered. Then he took a deep breath, his nostrils flaring, and said, “But that’s not why we’re here, is it? We’re here about something much more immediate.”

“That’s right,” said Sage. “I came down to be with Tallgrass while he makes his decision. To give him someone to talk to about it. And while I’m here, I wanted to talk to you about the program. Just for my own interest.”

“Of course,” said Trueway. “Anything I can do to help.”

“Thank you,” said Sage. “First, about the crewed flight program. You’re just about ready for your first attempt, aren’t you?”

Looking uncomfortable, Trueway said, “I’m sorry, but how much did the Director tell you?”

“Only that. That you’re close.”

“Okay,” he said. “It’s just that we’re holding back the announcement until we’re sure we’re ready. We’ve had setbacks before, and then there are the security concerns.”

“Of course,” she said. “It would be nice to live in a world that didn’t need secrets, but we don’t.”

“Exactly. It’s unfortunate, but necessary.” Trueway consulted a notebook he retrieved from his desk. “If all goes well,” he said, “the first manned …” He looked at her before continuing. “The first crewed launch will be in about a month. Then the plan is to do five more at monthly intervals, as we amass data. Again, if that goes well, we’ll spend six months preparing for the next phase.”

“The construction phase, right?” said Tallgrass.

“That’s right,” said Trueway. “We will construct two vessels in orbit. The first one should be done in a couple of years. Maybe three, depending. The second one should be quicker. By then their crews will be ready. Fully trained on replicas on the ground. We think we’ll be ready to go to L1 in four years. That’s why the crews need to start training now.”

“That sounds ambitious,” said Sage.

“It is ambitious,” said Trueway. “Ambitious but doable. We’re not overextending ourselves. Safety is paramount. That’s why we’re taking two vessels. For redundancy.”

“And if Tallgrass decides to get involved,” said Sage, “would he be part of the construction phase?”

“No,” said Trueway. “Of course he could opt to try to get in on that, if he wants. He could accelerate his training. But that is not our plan.”

Tallgrass interjected quietly. “What is the plan for me, then? If I decide to go.”

“The plan is for you and Seagrass to be on the crew that goes to L1 four years from now. You would be on one vessel, with four crew, and he would be on the other. Should you be successful, of course.”

“I see,” said Tallgrass, while his mother watched him. “I have one question. Why aren’t the first crews going to L1? The ones who made the first flights, and the ones on construction. Shouldn’t they have the right?”

Trueway shook his head. “They were selected and trained for their specific missions. They knew that from the beginning. You will be trained specifically for your mission.”

“Okay,” said Tallgrass. He looked at Sage. He looked out the window. He looked back at the Deputy Director. He said, “I want to talk to Seagrass before I commit. We should tell you together. But I’m pretty sure I’m going to do it.”

Continuing the serial release of The Plainsrunner under a Creative Commons Attribution Share-Alike license – (CC-BY-SA).

Tallgrass and Seagrass at the Academy.

Please join in the conversation. And subscribe so you don’t miss anything. Also, hit the Like button. Not sure what it does, but I’ll probably like it.-)

rjb

Chapter Thirty-Three – The View

It took twelve years. Professor Trueway was the driving force behind the campaign, and Tallgrass worked hard as his number one supporter. Sage and Professor Tailor led the way with the science to back it up. The artifacts added a bit of exotic mystery, but it was the possibility of something big lurking out there in space that was the main impetus for the people and their governments.

Although everyone tended to disregard the legends as superstitious remnants of their ignorant past, most of them had some lingering doubts. Since the legends were so widespread and so similar in their details, there was always the possibility that they were based on something real. In fact, an entire industry sprang up based on the legends. Most of it was just the usual attempts to use people’s hopes and fears to get money out of them, but some of it involved people’s beliefs.

In some cases, people with strong beliefs gathered masses of followers just through the charismatic power of their feelings. In other cases, people used their charisma and the power of other people’s beliefs to amass large followings. Some of them were driven by simple greed and vanity and were no danger to anyone other than themselves and their followers. Some of them had more grandiose ambitions, driven by their sense that they had destinies that were far larger and more important than such petty concerns as space exploration, or civilization. Most of these tried to realize their fantasies too quickly, and just as quickly came crashing down, leaving behind a disorganized rabble of believers. A very select few of them were able to build and sustain viable movements.

The result was that, while most people supported the space program more or less enthusiastically, some loudly opposed it, and some were dangerously inimical to it. The program found itself the target of attacks, some serious enough to take lives. That’s what caused the delay and made it take twelve years instead of ten. The program was a convenient and very visible scapegoat for the anti-spacers, and a clear and simple target for the fanatics.

Sage worried about Tallgrass. He was an integral part of the program, and his public profile was exaggerated by his relationship to her. She worried that it made him a natural target for those opposed to the program. She warned him to be careful, and he assured her that he would, but in truth he was more preoccupied by the intricacies of his daily life than by some vague possibility of danger. And he was reassured by his daily experience with the security measures in place to protect the facilities and personnel. Seagrass was also a member of the team, and neither of them had any life-threatening experiences in the years they worked to establish a manned space program.

Their education became a very practical affair. While they were learning about what went into getting things into space, they were also applying it in real projects. Most of the students specialized in one or two fields, but Tallgrass was able to gain a working knowledge of most of them. Rocketry, telemetry, electronics, celestial mechanics, even the finer points of the life support systems they would need. If he encountered it in his work, then he dug into it until he felt he understood it. He didn’t know he was making himself indispensable, but he was. And right along with him came Seagrass, driving himself to the point of exhaustion to make sure he stayed useful to his friend.

Even before they graduated from the Academy, they were vital members of the team, but they stayed on and graduated because everyone insisted on it. Their parents, who wanted them to have something they could fall back on. The Academy, which wanted to ensure its own relevance. The program itself, which wanted to be able to show the world their qualifications. And themselves. Tallgrass wasn’t the only one who thought he should finish what he started, but he was among the few who felt they should take everything the academy could offer them, to make themselves as useful as possible to the program.

So Tallgrass and Seagrass took the full four year standard course of studies, plus the two years of supplementary education, before finally joining the program full time, while most of their peers made the jump earlier.

Tallgrass thought that he would be involved in the design of the hardware and systems of the project, and he was. Because of his broad general knowledge, he was able to fit in on most aspects of it. Every group he joined benefited from it, and soon the managers of the groups recognized that. He became a desirable commodity. Each time a new group formed, they wanted him in it. Every time a project ran into problems, they asked for him. To simplify matters they stopped assigning him to specific groups and created a new job category for him. He became the member-at-large, roving about the whole enterprise helping where required. Seagrass was with him, of course, as his partner, although everyone else thought of him as an assistant.

A lot of work had been done already by the time they graduated and joined the project full time. You can get a lot done in six years, especially when everyone is working together with a sense of urgency. The rockets they would be using to get material and personnel into orbit were already tried and tested. The electronics and computers were being finalized, and would soon be locked in. They were still making improvements to the life support and habitat systems, since they were the first of their kind. They had launched satellites and successfully put them on their correct orbits, but this would be the first time they had sent people up. Much was done already, but there was still plenty for them to do when they joined the team for good.

After two years of that, Deputy Director Trueway called Tallgrass and Seagrass to his office. He wanted to see them first thing in the week, bright and early, so there they were clopping down the hallway toward his office on the fortieth floor of the Space Administration building, with the rising Sun reflecting hard off the ocean out the windows.

“What do you think he wants?” asked Seagrass, not for the first time since they got the summons.

“I don’t know,” said Tallgrass. “I can’t think of anything we screwed up. There was that weight-and-balance problem that came up last week, but I thought we handled that okay.”

“Yeah,” said Seagrass. “That was hardly anything. Certainly nothing to justify this.”

They arrived at the door and Tallgrass reached out to knock. “Well, we’ll soon find out,” he said.

“Come in,” came the call from within. “The door’s open.”

Tallgrass opened the door and led the way in, then stopped immediately, forcing Seagrass to avoid bumping into him. What stopped him was the view. This was a corner office with windows on both sides. Deputy Director Trueway was at the window on the ocean side, silhouetted against the glare. “Come over here,” he said, gesturing. As they approached, he said, “I love this view. Especially first thing in the morning. And it’s almost always the same. I can practically set the clock by when the Sun comes up.”

“Right,” said Tallgrass. “Because we have negligible axial tilt and orbital obliquity, so the Sun appears to rise at nearly the same time and place all year.”

“Yes,” said Trueway with a chuckle. “Although I must admit, that’s not what I’m thinking of when I’m looking at this view.” He turned back to the window, where the sea looked like beaten copper.

“Sorry, Deputy Director,” said Tallgrass. “I can’t help it.”

“Please,” said Trueway, “none of the ‘Deputy Director’ stuff here. Just between us, it feels weird. I’d prefer, in private like this, if you could call me ‘Professor.’“

“Of course, Professor,” said Tallgrass.

“That’s better,” said Trueway. “I didn’t have enough time to get used to being a professor before this.” He waved to indicate his office, in all meanings of the word.

Tallgrass nodded. “I understand,” he said. They all looked at the view in easy silence, then he said, “But you didn’t bring us here to look at the view.”

“No,” said Trueway, leading them to a table with food and drink. “I brought you here to offer you the opportunity to enjoy an even better view.”