“Whew,” the president said. “I’m glad this will be my last campaign—it’s exciting to meet the folks, but it sure takes it out of you.” He thought about the change in plans, but not for long: “Go ahead and add the Northern California stops, Ann. I’ll rest when I’m dead.”
“Yes, sir,” the vice president said, and she picked up a phone and alerted her staff to make the necessary arrangements. When she finished, she asked, “Before we alert the FAA, sir, I have a question: Do you want to postpone that orbiting solar-power-plant test firing and that trip up to the station by Brad McLanahan and Casey Huggins, the college students from California? It’s starting to get tense with space issues, and that test firing is receiving an awful lot of attention around the world. A lot of folks, including the Russians and a bunch of antiwar and environmentalist groups, want that test canceled and the space station to be allowed to burn up in the atmosphere.”
“I read about those protests,” the president said, shaking his head. “It seems to be more of the same stuff we’ve heard from far-left liberals for decades: technology advancements are just plain bad for humans, animals, world peace, the poor, and the planet. Armstrong especially gets a lot of negative press, mostly I think because it’s so noticeable in the sky, and the left thinks we are spying on everyone on Earth and ready to use a death ray to gun anyone down. They have no idea what they do on Armstrong Space Station. I can talk until I’m blue in the face about my experience and the technology that made it possible, but I’d be wasting my breath.”
Ken Phoenix thought about it for a moment, then shook his head. “Ann, I’m not stopping my space technology and industrialization initiative because the Russians or some left-wing wackos think this is the beginning of the end of the planet,” he said. “Let’s try to anticipate and prepare for what these groups or even the Russians might do after that test firing, but I’m not going to cancel it. That would be an insult to the hard work those students put into this project. It’s a peaceful project: sending energy to someone who needs it almost anywhere in the world. That’s a good thing. The left can say whatever else they want about it, but that’s what it is. No, we press forward.”
SAN LUIS OBISPO REGIONAL AIRPORT
THAT EVENING
Brad was seated at a desk in an aircraft hangar at San Luis Obispo Regional Airport, watching the progress on his computer as the latest navigation, charts, terrain, and obstacle data were being broadcast via satellite directly to his father’s Cessna P210 Silver Eagle aircraft parked behind him. The Silver Eagle was a small but extremely powerful Cessna P210 modified with a 450-horsepower turbine engine, plus a long list of high-tech avionics and other systems, making the thirty-year-old plane one of the most advanced anywhere in the world.
His cell phone beeped, and he looked at the caller ID, not surprised to not recognize it—he had been answering so many media requests that he just answered without screening: “Hello. This is Brad, Project Starfire.”
“Mr. McLanahan? My name is Yvette Annikki Sv?rd of the European Space Daily. We spoke briefly at your press conference in your laboratory a few days ago.”
He didn’t recognize the name, but he sure recognized the sultry accent. “I don’t think I caught your name at the press conference,” Brad said, “but I remember seeing it on the media list. How are you this evening?”
“Very well, thank you, Mr. McLanahan.”
“Brad, please.”
“Thank you, Brad,” Yvette said. “I have just returned to San Luis Obispo to attend your congratulatory party tonight and to observe the test firing of Starfire, and I had a few follow-up questions for you. Are you still in town?”
“Yes. But I leave for Battle Mountain early in the morning.”
“Oh, of course, the flight to Armstrong Space Station aboard the Midnight spaceplane. Congratulations.”
“Thank you.” Damn, that voice was mesmerizing, Brad thought.
“I do not wish to disturb you, but if you are available I would very much like to ask some questions and get your thoughts about flying to the space station,” Yvette said. “I can be on campus in a few minutes.”
“I’m not on campus,” Brad said. “I’m preflighting my airplane, getting ready to fly to Battle Mountain.”
“You have your own plane, Brad?”
“It was my dad’s. I fly it every chance I get.”
“How exciting! I love the freedom of flying. It is so wonderful, being able to hop into your own plane and go somewhere on a moment’s notice.”
“It sure is,” Brad said. “Are you a pilot?”
“I have only a European Light-Sport Aircraft pilot’s license,” Yvette said. “I could not fly from San Luis Obispo to Battle Mountain. I suppose that is a very easy trip in your plane.”
“Driving takes about nine hours,” Brad said. “I can do it in a little over two.”
“Wonderful. It must be a very nice plane.”
“Would you like to see it?”