Ralph grinned. "Your grandfather used to say that all the time."
"He knew far better than Dad how to handle the governments, how to work with them. Dad was more of a loose cannon. Maybe it was because his childhood was so restrictive. But Grandad was right. You have to walk the fine line." He tapped his desk for a minute. "Outside that door I have a team of the brightest minds. Not all scientists, of course. Some are more of public relations types." Ralph groaned. "I hear you. But we need them. They are waiting just outside that door to take whatever story I tell them and run with it."
"I take it by your tone you pretty much have it pat."
Reginald smiled and gave a small shrug. "I don't sit in this chair because I look good."
Ralph gave a nod and sat back. "So what's the story?"
He turned to me. "My father made no secret of the fact that he thought we'd been duped by your folks. And I tend to agree."
I felt the anger flare up. "Now wait a minute..."
"Calm down, kid. You're going to hear that from every nut on the block. I'm just letting you know what you're in for. And personally, I'm happy that they did it."
I suddenly had to defend them. I had to. I might not know many human people, but some things translate. There was no mistaking the accusation in his tone. "But Mother didn't even know."
"No, of course she didn't know," he said strangely, giving me some kind of wink as if we shared some joke.
"She didn't!" I said again, clutching the arms of my chair.
"And it's great to hear you say that so vehemently. Honestly, I had been worried that a kid raised in a tin can by scientists would be..." he flicked his hand, as if that motion explained everything, or even anything.
I crossed my arms over my chest, felt my fists flexing. It was happening again. The temper tantrums, as Mother called them. The "normal part of puberty" as Dad said. Reginald was pushing that button and I was having a hard time keeping my calm. "Would be what?" I asked through clenched teeth.
"You know. Like a robot or something." Reginald shook his head. "Jake, don't take it so personally. You're the first, remember? It's not like we've had anything to base our assumptions on."
"Then maybe you shouldn't assume," I said, sounding uncomfortably like Mother.
He put his hands up. "I can't help it. We've had to assume certain things. I'll admit we're wrong on some things and I'm sure you'll quickly set us straight. But you're a man of science, or at least you will be. You've been raised in an environment that breeds educated assumptions. It's part of the equation. We've had to make certain assumptions. Just like your own parents, in some ways we'll be wrong. But in others, we're right. And that's very fortunate for you." He leaned back and looked at me. I got the feeling he was examining his test subject, seeing if his slick words calmed me.
I hate to admit that they did. He was right. That's just science. How many days and weeks did Mother and Dad spend throwing out ideas about a new world, moon, or asteroid?
"It's got to have minerals, at least. Something we can harvest for the thrusters."
"There's no way they think. Look at them...they don't even have structured communities!"
"I believe that when they shake like that, they are mating. The pattern is very intricate. It's the only thing I can think of."
Sometimes my parents and the squeaks were right. Sometimes they were wrong. Sometimes the asteroid had tons of useful minerals, and sometimes the shaking, no matter how intricate, was just a sneeze. Could I really get mad at Reginald for wondering about me?
I sat back. Though I kept my arms crossed, they weren't tense. Reginald sensed that. He has a way of reading people, of assessing the situation in a millisecond that I wish I had. I wonder if Reginald ever gave any thought to exploration himself? I bet he'd be great with a new tribe.
"Now, the story we're telling is the one you actually believe...with a twist. Your mother and father knew she was pregnant. They were so in love that the rest of the crew got behind them because the thought of terminating the baby was too much of a cross for any of them to bear."
I gave a snort. I couldn't help it. I loved Mother, but I could not imagine her caring that much for anything if it put a mission, or her science, at risk.
Reginald tapped his tented fingers and thought for a few moments. "You really are an interesting kid, Jake. One second you're defending your mother, the next..."
I felt my face redden again. I looked to Ralph, but it was clear he was not going to support me in this. "You just...you don't know her. Science. That's what's important." Reginald's eyebrow went up a bit. Just for a second. But he said nothing more on that. I wonder what the eyebrow twitch was about?
"I think it's a story we can really work with. Yes, it admits fallibility on our part. But a human fallibility, and that's something we can use right about now. Plus, it'll take you from freak to folk hero," he snapped, "like that. The boy who was loved so much his parents defied both StarTech and every government of the time." He grinned. "It's fantastic."
Ralph shook his head. "Yeah, for him. What's it going to do to me?"
"I believe the statute of limitations has run out on those charges. Leave the rest to me. You're the doting uncle type. You've braved the vast reaches of space to help keep the boy safe, to bring him home to know his own people. He's a hero. You're a hero. And hopefully if you two play it right, we'll all be heroes."
"And if we don't?"
It was a very good question. "Yeah. What happens if we don't?" I mimicked.
"If you don't, then we are done." Reginald sat forward and folded his hands. "Gentlemen. Let's forget for a minute that you're employees of StarTech and that I'm your boss."
Since when? "I'm not..." Ralph shot me a look, the kind you can't ignore. I held my tongue.
"Let's just look at this whole thing in terms of the big picture. We are on the cusp of what generations have worked and died to accomplish. By coming back, you're the last piece of the frustrating puzzle. For nearly two centuries, true space travel has eluded us. We've sent hundreds out, never to hear from them again. And yet we've known, somehow, that it was possible to go and come back. We just knew it. And now, you're here. Proof.
"But the proof has come at the expense of the governments. Your parents flagrantly broke the law. Fine, it doesn't matter...as long as you're floating around in a tin can galaxies away. I said it before, what the hell could they possibly do to you all the way out there? Nothing. In fact, to them, your life up until now, the barbaric existence you must have endured in a cramped, lonely vessel untold millions of miles away from any other human life will be adequate punishment." He held up a hand. Reginald does not like being interrupted. "And that's not an assumption, that's a fact. I didn't say it's true, not to you. But it is a fact that's how they'll see it and that's exactly how I'll spin it if I need to.
"You have lived your life so far out of the realms of their world that they cannot wrap their minds around it. They simply can't. There's no room in government for creativity. There's no room in the board meetings and legal sessions for imagination. To them, deep space travel is...well, no more than a movie. And they've had plenty of proof. Two hundred years, in fact."
On that, I really did have to object. I didn't know much about the history of human space travel. I'll be the first to admit I ignored HuTA too much. But I did know about Luna. I was walking around Utopia. They were real, they were there. Even if the governments knew nothing about our survival, they knew that living in space is possible. I said as much. Reginald listened.