Yup.
And all they’ve done so far is lob Shepard through the sky like a stone. Suborbital. Hell, I just done pretty much exactly that. Hundred and sixty-seven thousand feet. There’s no air, no aerodynamic controls—that’s why we got the damn hydrogen peroxide thrusters!—I hit five g’s on the way up; Shepard did six. He was weightless for five minutes; I was off the seat for two.
I know, Ridley said.
Landed it myself, too—I didn’t need the whole goddamn navy to fish me out of the ocean. Christ. One point seven billion?
Seems catching up is all that matters.
The man’s obsessed, Harrison said.
The world’s judging him—judging this country—on how we do in space.
Talk about takin a longer stride.
You thinking about it?
Hell, no. Got everything I need right here.
Attaboy, Ridley said.
Two hundred a week and the Blue Suit, Harrison said. Everything a man could ask for.
Amen, Ridley said. He looked at the lockers. How’s Florence?
Doing good, Harrison said.
Yeah?
No sickness at all.
That’s great.
Yeah. And they’re giving her the maximum dose of X-rays too, Harrison said. Twenty-three hundred roentgens.
I’ll be damned, Ridley said. She’s a tough little cookie. Gets that from her mother, mind you.
She started crawling again pretty soon after they started. And she learned to walk again last weekend.
That’s good news, Jim.
Yeah.
Her eyes still crooked?
Nope. Straightened right out. The doctors are doing a great job down there. And she gets to come home on weekends.
You been cookin?
Nah. Pancho’s.
I gotta get out of this suit, Harrison said, standing.
Ridley pulled out a pack of Pall Malls and said, I’ll see you at the debrief.
The swimming pool in Lancaster was long and thin and blue and Grace moved almost silently through the water, hands cutting the surface with precision, legs beating hard behind her. They used to come here every week before Florence got sick. Now that her treatment had finished and they were back at home, Grace brought her almost every day. In August even the high elevations of the Mojave were almost unbearably hot. It had been a hundred by ten every morning that week. As she swam, her mind rested. Milo was at home, indoors, out of the heat; Florence was by the kids’ pool with Jenny and her daughter, Megan. After the Yeagers had moved, when Chuck stepped away from flight test work to command a squadron of F-100s up at George, Grace had found herself without a confidante. Glennis had always been there, stuck out in the boonies too, but now she was fifty miles away, raising three kids on her own while Chuck worked long hours. Grace fantasized about their life: out of the test business, squadron commander, air force still making him shake hands with Important People, make speeches, stand on podiums. For a moment she thought about the risks of standing on a podium. They weren’t great: you could fall off, fall over, clam up, get hit, get booed. The only thing that was potentially life-threatening was getting hit.
Florence didn’t know Jenny and Megan that well; the next length would be her last. Jenny lived north of Lancaster; her husband, like most of the people around who weren’t ranchers (and increasingly there were less of them), worked at the base, as an engineer. Megan was three. It was good to have company again. Milo wasn’t much of a talker. When Grace reached the end of the pool, she pushed the water from her face and removed her cap. She pulled herself out and walked, dripping, over to the kids’ pool. Jenny was perched on the little steps that led into the water with the children alongside her.
How was your swim? Jenny said.
Good, Grace said, sitting down with them. Everything okay?
No problems, Jenny said.
Florence wants to tell me something, Megan said, but she doesn’t make sense.
Oh, thank you, Megan, Grace said. Florence, sweetheart, you okay?
Florence nodded.
Darn it, Jenny said. Look at the time. I need to get going. We’ve got the dentist this afternoon.
Lucky you, Grace said. What’s that, Duck? Speak up, I can’t hear you. Don’t pull that face; come on, we need to get going too.
Florence shrieked and put her hands over her ears.
Florence! Be quiet! What do you think you’re doing? Grace said, then, to Jenny, Jesus, what’s gotten into her?
Been there, Jenny said.
Out, Grace said to Florence, or I’m going to pick you up and carry you out.
Florence stood up and started to walk out, then fell over.
Will you stop messing around, Grace said, yanking her up from beneath her arms. Florence stood and began to walk back to the changing rooms, but veered left on the way, heading toward the main pool.
Florence! Grace said, going after her.
No! Florence said, kicking her legs as Grace picked her up from behind and carried her to the changing room.
What’s gotten into you today? Grace said as she rubbed her dry with a towel.
Florence said something, but Grace couldn’t make it out.