“Brahma’s going to Keanu.”
The Coalition was scheduled to send its first mission beyond Earth orbit—to the Moon—three months hence. Since Brahma would be landing at Shackleton Crater, there was some chance—and outright concern—that Brahma’s stay would overlap with Tea’s crew on Destiny-7.
“Shackleton and Keanu?”
“No, fuckhead. They aren’t made of fuel and consumables. They are going to forget the Moon and land on Keanu during closest approach.”
“That’s only two months from now. How the hell can they get a project like that together?”
“Turns out they’ve been kicking it around for a year, but, really, dude, the spacecraft doesn’t have to be changed; it’s all guidance and traj.”
Zack immediately began to consider the operational challenges of landing on Keanu . . . low gravity, the possibility that rocket exhaust would turn ice and snow into steam—
“I don’t get this,” Harley said. “The idea that Brahma is going to fly to Keanu is huge news—and I’m the one breaking it to you? That’s not the Zack Stewart I knew.”
In spite of his two-year fog—hell, call it depression—Zack was honest enough to recognize the truth of Harley’s statement. Besides, his own body confirmed it: He blushed. “All right,” he said. “What would you do if you were Zack Stewart?”
“You mean, aside from asking myself why I’m not still in bed with Nowinski at this hour?” That was another bull’s-eye for Harley Drake . . . in the past six months, Zack’s relationship with Tea had taken a sharp left turn from supportive family friend and fellow astronaut to . . . well, girlfriend.
With Tea assigned as commander of the upcoming Destiny-7 mission, America’s third visit to Shackleton Station, they had tried to keep the relationship quiet. Obviously they had failed.
“Yes,” Zack said, electing not to deny or confirm. “Aside from that.”
“I’d be knocking on Shane Weldon’s door.”
Zack was on his feet before Harley finished the sentence.
Shane Weldon’s tour as chief of the astronaut office had ended a year after he made the painful but inevitable decision to replace Zack with Travis Buell. Buell’s subsequent behavior on the first landing had contributed to Weldon’s change of job—NASA management was equally split between those who blamed Weldon for putting a hothead like Buell in such a visible position and those who thought him a managerial genius and patriot.
Moving him to mission operations made both sides happy. It was a promotion that put Weldon on a path to be head of the Johnson Space Center some day, and it also got him out of day-to-day personnel decisions.
Or so it said on the job description. In truth, Weldon, like the true bureaucratic master he was becoming, never let go of reins he once held. It was said in Building 4-South that not one of the new chief astronaut’s crew selections was final until Shane Weldon signed off.
Powerful or not, Weldon’s office was strictly government issue, part of a suite surrounding a central reception area occupied by three assistants, one of whom, the ancient Kerrie Kyle, nodded Zack to a couch. “Shane’s usually in by now.” Workdays at JSC ran from eight to four, if not earlier. Weldon’s absence was unusual enough that when he did show up—fifteen minutes later—Zack had to tease him. “Sleeping in these days?”
“Nice to see you, too,” Weldon said. “Come in.”
Zack followed him into his office, which was dominated by pictures and models of aircraft and spacecraft Weldon had flown—and a huge astronomical image of Keanu so new that it was resting on a chair. “You can move that,” Weldon said, realizing it was where a guest would sit.
“It’s fine where it is,” Zack said.
Weldon had been on his way to his seat. Instead he remained standing while opening his laptop. “Out with it.”
Zack felt like a ten-year-old selling chocolate bars for a school project. “Well, this might be above my pay grade, but if it’s true that Brahma is heading for a landing on Keanu, I think we ought to divert Destiny-7 there, too.” An old Michigan phrase came to him. “It’s time for Operation Welcome Wagon.”
“Why do you care if we beat them? I have some vague memory that you might have disapproved of Buell’s little speech at Shackleton.”
“I don’t care who gets there first. But I think we’ll be kicking ourselves years from now if we pass up a chance to go there at all. How many monster NEOs will ever be in reach?”
Now Weldon sat, fingers drumming on the desk. “We’ve never simulated a landing on a NEO.”
“Look, are we a space program or not? Destiny is the vehicle that’s supposed to open up the solar system. It’s already been to the Moon twice. It was designed for missions to Mars and—I seem to recall—Near-Earth Objects. The guidance teams will have a challenge with a short deadline, but this would be just the kind of grenade they’d dive on.”
“Is there some takeaway from this mission? Some cool science?”
“For God’s sake, Shane! This won’t be flags and footprints! We’re creaming our jeans because we found a few tons of ice on the Moon—Keanu’s covered with the stuff. It’ll be like taking a trip to the birth of the solar system!” He noticed that Weldon was actually typing on his laptop. “Are you writing this down?”
“It’s good phraseology. Not that I expected anything less from you.”
“So you’re considering it.”
“Way ahead of you. Did Kerrie say why I was late?” Zack shook his head. “I was in a double-secret meeting with Gabe Jones and the entire eighth floor: HQ and the White House want us to send Destiny-7 to Keanu, and beat the Coalition there.”
He turned his computer so Zack could see the cover of the Powerpoint presentation. “You bastard!” But there was no anger in it. “Why didn’t you tell me to shut up?”
“I’m going to have to sell this thing to a bunch of very skeptical division heads. For every one who’s eager to embrace the challenge, there will be two who think it’s too dangerous or just too much fucking work. I need to show the same enthusiasm you just did.”
“Then send me.”
“I might do that. I need to double-team this—”
“Fuck your briefings, Shane.” Zack leaned on the desk. “Send me to Keanu. Put me on the crew. I’m the center’s expert on the subject. I’m qualified on Destiny and Venture.”
Weldon stared, his face neutral, giving away nothing. “Seven has a crew.”
“For a lunar mission. It needs a Keanu expert.”
“Which happens to be Zack Stewart.”
“Look around the astronaut office and tell me who else even comes close.” Zack didn’t wait for a correction. “Besides, I’m current on hours and classes.”
“No question.”
“But you’re still reluctant.”
“True.” Now Weldon looked directly at him. “Really, Zack . . . you lost Megan two years ago, but you’ve been wandering in the wilderness a little. Are you ready . . . mentally?”
“I wouldn’t be here.” At that moment, Zack realized he needed this mission—this new goal—more than anything in the past two years. If Weldon said no, he was going to walk out of the office and out of NASA.
“I appreciate the enthusiasm, Zack, but—”
Now Zack got to his feet. “Fuck it, Shane. You owe me the spot. Deke’s Rules.”
Weldon blinked. “No doubt. Of course, Deke’s Rules may not carry a lot of weight on the ninth floor or at HQ—”
“Okay, then, look at your crew matrix. You’ve got Tea, Yvonne Hall, Oliver McCabe and Pogo Downey. Hall is capable, strong, great on EVA, but loaded with Daddy issues. Call her a ‘possible.’
“Downey is the best ops guy in the office. And for going into a strange environment on short notice, nobody better.