Eagle Station

Geez, we all sound kinda punch-drunk, he realized. Ever since he and Nadia returned from orbit, the team they’d put together had been working almost around the clock to refine and validate their mission plan for an armed reconnaissance flight around the moon and back. Whatever sleep they’d gotten had come in the form of grudgingly snatched catnaps on cots in empty offices between simulator runs. Meals had been equally sporadic, more often than not sandwiches, chips, and candy bars from vending machines instead of real food.

In fact, up to this moment, Brad would have been willing to bet that every ounce of adrenaline in his body had long since been burned up — replaced by caffeine from the dozens of cups of coffee he vaguely remembered drinking. But now, looking out over an audience full of the most senior officials in the U.S. government, he was all too aware that his nerves were starting to twitch.

Given a choice, he’d much rather fly in combat than make any kind of a speech. But that was the trouble. He didn’t really have a free choice in the here and now. Because no one was flying anywhere unless he could sell this idea to the president and his national security team. So even though he wasn’t really cut out by training or inclination for this particular job, that didn’t matter.

“Well, I guess I’d better get this dog and pony show started,” Brad said reluctantly, knowing that he sounded like a kid about to hand his parents a really crappy report card.

Nadia pulled him down for a quick, passionate kiss. “You will be fine,” she told him after their lips parted. “Do not worry.”

Somewhat dazed, he nodded. He didn’t know exactly how she did it, but she had the ability to take his emotions, stir them around, and somehow leave him feeling a hundred times better.

Squaring his shoulders, Brad moved to the lectern. “Mr. President, ladies and gentlemen,” he said. He supposed strict etiquette would have required separately identifying every cabinet-level secretary and general officer, but that would have taken forever. Plus, he’d probably only have ended up pissing off someone important by leaving them off the list. “Thanks for coming. I’ll try to make this as quick and to the point as I can.”

Farrell and his father both gave him encouraging smiles.

“A few days ago, I mentioned that we were working on a possible plan for an armed reconnaissance of the moon’s far side,” Brad went on. “The good news is that after crunching all the numbers and running detailed simulations, we’re now confident our proposed mission plan is feasible.”

General Kelleher spoke up from his place. “And I’m going to repeat my earlier question, Mr. McLanahan: Where’s the actual honest-to-God spacecraft that’s going to fly this hypothetical armed recon you’re talking about?”

Brad ignored the other man’s somewhat insulting refusal to address him by the major’s rank he’d earned with the Iron Wolf Squadron. Like many officers in the U.S. armed forces, Kelleher probably wasn’t exactly comfortable with the idea of private military units. Besides, this wasn’t the time to get into a pissing contest over nonessentials. With a slight shrug, he mentally pulled the pin on the rhetorical grenade he was about to toss into everyone’s laps. Then he turned and nodded to the large S-29B Shadow spaceplane parked nearby. “You’re looking right at it, General.”

Kelleher stared hard at him. “If that’s your idea of a joke, I’d advise you to drop it fast and get serious.”

“I’m not joking,” Brad said quietly. “We can send that S-29 to the moon.”

Now he heard a muttered storm of protest from around the room. Even President Farrell looked uncertain. Only his father nodded thoughtfully. Figures, he thought. His dad was usually about ten steps ahead of everyone else when it came to adapting military hardware to new and never-imagined uses.

Martindale, however, was clearly somewhat less flexible — at least in this case. He shook his head in disbelief. “Cut the crap, Major,” he snapped. “The S-29s and their sister spaceplanes are designed solely for limited-duration missions in low Earth orbit and in the atmosphere. It’s sheer fantasy to propose flying something that’s half airplane, half spaceship out into deep space, around the moon, and then all the way back to Earth.”

To his own surprise, Brad stayed calm. If anything, he suddenly realized, he was actually enjoying this chance to play the contrarian. Maybe he was more like his father than he’d ever imagined. “It’s not fantasy at all, Mr. Martindale,” he said bluntly. “Like I said earlier, my team and I have run this concept through detailed analysis and simulation.” He signaled the Sky Masters computer techs controlling their audiovisual equipment. “And with the necessary modifications, there’s no reason that an S-29B can’t handle this reconnaissance mission.”

The display screens behind him lit up, showing computer-generated visuals to accompany his presentation.