Executive Intent

“As the senior civilian administrator of the Air Force’s military space programs, my job is to assist the Secretary of the Air Force in ensuring that we have the best equipped and trained space force in the world,” Ann went on. “The constellation of Kingfisher interceptor modules in orbit have proven extremely reliable so far in their short tour of duty, and to me this incident is suspicious and troubling. I’ll be following the investigation very carefully over the next several months. Most of the findings will be classified, I’m sure, but as much as I’m permitted, I’ll report back to you on the board’s progress.” She and McLanahan fielded several questions from the few members of the press who attended the remarks, and then went inside to Hunter Noble’s room.

They were surprised to see him up and moving about. His right shoulder was heavily bandaged, he wore a neck brace, and his face was shiny from the sunburn cream that had been applied, but otherwise he looked remarkably good for a guy who had been rescued from Earth orbit. “Saw the presser on TV, General,” he said. “You looked good, if I may say so. Ever think about politics?”

“Yes-and then I slap myself,” Patrick responded. “What are you doing out of bed?”

“Went to find that nurse who put this goop on my face,” Boomer said with a smile.

“How do you feel?” Ann asked.

“A little wobbly, ma’am-I’m not as much of an exercise freak as General Raydon, so I think the zero-g and then Earth-g hit me harder.”

“Not to mention your spaceplane being blasted by a weapon garage and then being forced to evacuate it.”

“That, too.”

“So you feel like talking a little?” Patrick asked, closing the door behind him. Ann Page looked at Patrick-she knew he knew he hadn’t yet been approved to serve on the accident investigation board, so he wasn’t authorized to ask any questions-but she stayed silent.

“Sure-it’s better than playing with that lung-exerciser thingy they gave me,” Boomer said, motioning to the spirometer on the table next to the bed. He sat on the side of the bed. “Shoot.”

“Did Lieutenant McCallum have any problems with the repairs that you’re aware of?” Patrick asked.

“None,” Boomer said. “Went very smoothly.”

“Was he nervous about doing the space walk?”

“I think so,” Boomer admitted. “But I told him it was natural, and that I get a little illyngophobia every now and then.”

“A little what?” Ann asked.

“Illyngophobia-the fear of getting vertigo.”

“You mean acrophobia.”

“No, that’s the fear of heights. I don’t have a problem with heights. I’m just afraid I might get vertigo. Pretty much the same, but different.” Ann looked at him skeptically. “I’m generally a font of useless information, Madam Undersecretary,” he said with a smile.

“‘A difference that makes no difference is no difference,’” Ann said.

“William James, the ultimate verificationist,” Boomer said. “My man.”

While they were prattling on, Patrick stepped away from Boomer’s bed and touched his left hand to his left ear, a signal that he was not taking part in their conversation. “Maddie?”

“Yes, General McLanahan,” the voice of Sky Masters Inc.’s virtual assistant replied a moment later, heard through the resonations transmitted through his skull to his middle ear.

“Connect me to General Raydon on Armstrong Space Station.”

“Stand by, General McLanahan,” Maddie replied. A few moments later: “General Raydon, this is Maddie from Sky Masters Incorporated calling for General McLanahan, not secure.”

“Is that your Duty Officer calling for you again, General?” Kai asked.

“Same operation; different names,” Patrick said. “Verificationism.” That got Ann and Boomer’s attention.

“Say again?”

“Disregard. How are you?”

“Tired. Yourself, sir?”

“Good. Undersecretary Page and I are here with Boomer.”

“How is he?”

“Up and about.”

“He’s a tough bugger, that’s for sure.”

“I’m very sorry about Lieutenant McCallum.”

“Thanks. He was a great engineer and crewman. I’ll be heading down for his service in a few hours.”

“I’ll see you there. Any more news on the accident, Kai?”

“We’re not secure, General.”

“I know.”

There was a slight pause; then: “Are you heading up the accident investigation board, sir?”

“It hasn’t been confirmed yet.”

“As soon as I get the word that you’re chairing the board, General, I’ll pass along all the information on the entire incident,” Kai said. At that same moment, Patrick received a secure instant message that scrolled across the bottom of his field of vision, thanks to the tiny electronic intraocular lens implant in his left eye. The message read: LET ME KNOW WHERE TO SEND THE FILES.

“Understood, Kai,” Patrick said. “I’ll drop you a line when I get the okay.”

“Roger that, sir.”

“I’ll see you in Palo Alto for McCallum’s service. Fly safe.”

“Will do. Good to talk with you again, General.” And he broke the connection.

“Raydon?” Ann asked, silently reminding Patrick that he was not yet part of any investigation.