Anxious to know if the youngster were having any unexpected difficulties, Moreau silently cursed his boat’s broken radio. Though he should have returned to Kourou immediately after it had tailed the previous afternoon, he hadn’t. Several years before, this wouldn’t have been the case. At that time, a mere two-hour fishing trip would have been a luxury.
Wondering if his days at Kourou were already numbered, Moreau found his concentration broken by a sudden movement amidships. There, Theresa was visible, her shapely, naked body invitingly lit by the first rays of direct sunlight. Teasingly, she beckoned him to join her down below. Though his thoughts had been far away from any such sensual delights, a sudden stiffening coursed through his loins. Ravaged by a hunger he had assumed to be more than satisfied, Moreau locked in the boat’s auto-pilot. Without a second’s hesitation, he then rose to once again sample the sweet nectar that was all too soon flowing from the Brazilian’s young, ripe body.
Two hours later, the boat carrying Colonel Jean Moreau and his teenage lover sailed into Kourou’s harbor. As the vessel was expertly tacked into its proper slip, it seemed dwarfed by the massive pair of sleek, ocean-going cargo ships that were tied up nearby.
Jean Moreau wasted no time locking up the boat and escorting his companion to the parking lot. There they jumped into a battered jeep and took off down the port’s only roadway. Minutes later, they were out of the congested harbor area and into the relative seclusion of the surrounding jungle. The road there was narrow yet easy to follow. A minimum of traffic allowed for excellent progress.
While Theresa nodded off back to sleep beside him, Moreau savored the passionate coupling that they had just completed. For the first time in their brief relationship, he had had the He sty brunette whimpering in ecstasy after leading her to a long series of drawn-out orgasms. Careful to hold back his own pleasure, he had only released himself after she had positively begged him to do so. Totally spent and satiated, she had nestled back to sleep, while he had returned topside to guide the boat back into the harbor.
Such was the pleasant course of his contemplation while he guided the jeep off the main road and pointed it up a familiar driveway. A quarter of a kilometer later, he pulled up to a white-stucco ranch house with a red-tiled roof. The hum of the jungle creatures rose from among the thick stands of surrounding vegetation as he put the jeep into neutral and turned to awaken his passenger. Several shakes of her shoulder were needed to accomplish this.
“Come on, sleeping beauty, the vacation’s over. It’s time to get back to work.”
Her eyes were heavy with sleep as she slowly opened them to reorientate herself.
“Oh goodness, mi amore, are we back at the house already? In my dreams, you had taken me far out to sea.”
Enraptured by Theresa’s innocent tone, Moreau bent over to kiss her on her moist lips.
“Sorry, but not this time, my little beauty. Now, get going before I have to paddle your behind. I want the house completely cleaned and full of groceries by the time I arrive for dinner.”
Theresa seemed puzzled by his haste.
“But, mi amore, aren’t you coming in to shower and change your clothes first? You can’t go to work looking like that. Why, you haven’t even shaved.”
Conscious of the late hour, Moreau reached over and hit the passenger-door latch himself.
“Au revoir, ma petite. Now get along, before I call your mother and have you shipped off back to Fortaleza!”
This last remark was all that was needed to get Theresa motivated. A sad pout could still be seen on her face as she reluctantly left the jeep and watched him drive off.
As Moreau guided the four-wheeled vehicle back onto the main roadway, the rumble of distant thunder boomed from overhead. In response, the colonel floored the accelerator. Oblivious to the abrupt increase in speed, he expertly maneuvered the jeep through the jungle.
He didn’t have long to go until his progress was halted by a closed, sturdy steel barricade. Stopping before it, Moreau was greeted by a serious-faced, uniformed sentry. No words were exchanged as the fully armed guard caught sight of the jeep’s sole occupant. With a crisp salute, he triggered a switch and the barricade slid open.
Moreau put the vehicle into gear and continued with his forward progress. The rumble of thunder again echoed overhead, and he passed a compact, military-like sign that read, “Welcome to Ariadne.”
The paved roadway significantly widened at this spot. Absent along its shoulders was the heavy vegetation that hugged the previous section of pavement. In fact, a full kilometer of bare ground lay between this section of road and the encroaching jungle. Moreau had been here when this portion of the complex had been originally cleared. Never would he forget how difficult this task had been. Even today, it took the full-time efforts of a team of muscular laborers to keep the jungle back.
Up ahead, he caught sight of a pair of massive, round liquid-oxygen tanks. Located on each side of the clearing he was soon crossing, these snow-white containers were positioned beside various fuel-storage tanks and a central oxygen-holding area. Next he passed the complex’s largest structure, the payload preparation facility. It was inside this huge edifice that the satellites were prepared for orbit and eventually attached to the Ariadne rocket itself. Moved in and out of the preparation complex on a set of railroad tracks, the assembled booster was then conveyed to the actual launch mount with the support of a moveable service tower.
Though he had witnessed many a launch there, he never failed to get an emotional charge out of seeing the assembled rocket as it awaited the signal to lift off. This morning proved no different. As he passed by the preparation facility, he looked to his right, and set his gaze on the silver-skinned Ariadne perched securely on its launch pad. Over fifty meters in length, the missile appeared sleek and powerful, its four bulging boosters secured to each of its fins. A cloud of whitish vapor streamed from its fuselage, and several support vehicles were busy seeing to the last-minute refueling and pre-flight checkout.
Once again, the colonel was diverted by the rumble of distant thunder. A line of black clouds could be seen gathering to the south. It wouldn’t be long now until they would make their presence known here at the facility.
With the hope that they’d be able to get the Ariadne skyward before this storm struck, Moreau guided his jeep towards a nearby, low-level concrete bunker. Taking a last look at the advancing clouds, he parked his vehicle and walked quickly to the bunker’s central access door. Before he was allowed entry there, he needed to enter an identification code into a frame-mounted key-pad. Once this was accomplished, he inserted his personalized ID card into a slot positioned beneath the computerized lock. Several seconds passed, and then the door slid open with a loud hiss.
Inside it was dark and noticeably cooler. Hastily, he followed the single tile-lined hallway to the preparation room. There he chose a spotlessly white jumpsuit from several outfits that had been hanging on the far wall. Only then did he press for the elevator that would efficiently whisk him three floors underground.
The environment that he soon entered was drastically different from that he had encountered upstairs.
Flashing digital consoles, blinking video screens, and the hushed tones of the dozens of white-suited technicians now visible met his eyes and ears. Without hesitation, Moreau proceeded to the console marked Meteorology. There he encountered a white-haired individual nervously hunched over his display screen.