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A New PastChapter 41: Poking The Bear free porn video
“Pan-pan, pan-pan, pan-pan. This is Golf Sierra Niner, in de-orbit profile, passing latitude eight-nine north on heading one nine zero. Altitude two-one-two klicks, descending. We are broadcasting in the blind and unable to receive communications.”
I marveled at the disciplined voice of Terry White, the pilot. We had been on what I considered a routine flight up to PTO-1 for a supply delivery. We’d launched the station in December of 1994, just outside my eighteen-month goal, and had manned it continuously since. Dr. Thomas Culpepper, one of the Season Three interns and now working with Dr. Wilkerson in my materials research team, oversaw the orbital science operations.
I’d joined the flight at the last minute, wanting to review some of the material processes being worked on in the orbiting lab. It was two days docked to the station and then an orbital change to retrieve an end-of-life military satellite for the DoD before returning to Edwards Air Force base with our cargo. That had been the plan.
That changed after a debris hit, following the satellite retrieval.
“Any way to know if we’re broadcasting?” Samantha Conner, the co-pilot, asked.
“Negative. Whatever hit us took out at least one antenna array. Once we get lower and we’re not ionizing the air so much, our other comms should work.” Terry replied. “I just hope no one gets twitchy with something de-orbiting from over the pole.”
While tensions around the world had reduced to some extent over the past two years, the START II treaty was still stalled in Congress and the US retained a formidable response capability to a missile attack. Of course, GS-9 was on a published flight path and I was confident the Air Force was tracking us, given our mission to retrieve a military satellite.
“How’s our speed?” I asked, as I glanced over my shoulder and out the window. The glow of reentry had dimmed.
“We’re below six klicks a second. Why?”
Rather than answer, I flipped two switches on the engineer’s panel before me and began typing on the keyboard. After a minute, I sat back and watched the screen.
“Yes! I’m able to connect to the remote telemetry system. Let me alert ops.”
I began typing again.
“Ops is online. They can hear our broadcast, but we can’t hear them,” I said a few moments later.
“That’s good news,” Sam said.
“It is. Let me see if they are tracking ... Shit. High T-34, high fluctuations on M-34, port engine.” I typed furiously as I kept one eye on the monitors at my engineering station.
“Any station this net, Golf Sierra Niner broadcasting in the blind. We are losing one engine. Requesting immediate clearance to land...”
“Hill Air Force Base looks closest,” Sam said as she checked the track against her display.
“ ... at Hill Air Force Base,” Terry finished.
“Ops says we are clear. They’re alerting Hill.”
A red alarm flashed and a klaxon sounded on my panel.
“Shutting down port engine!” I announced.
“Throttling down starboard.” Terry stated as he monitored his controls.
The cockpit was quietly tense as the two pilots adjusted course and monitored our altitude. I kept an eye on the engines. I had many hours in test firings and simulator time but this was the first trip sitting alone in the engineer’s station on a real flight bridge. I was proud of completing all the certifications we had devised for the position but found myself wondering if the training was enough for a real emergency. I pushed those thoughts away and pulled out the checklist for landing on one engine and began reviewing the procedures, just as I had trained.
“Should we stretch for Edwards?” Sam asked.
“Negative,” I responded. “Get us on the ground. We should not have lost the port engine from a debris strike. Something else is going on. Let’s get safely down. Then we can figure out what happened.”
The design of the GO-X had given way to the GS series of orbiters. Hunter and I had been able to reduce the size of the generators and make them integral to the wing base, to allow a streamlined lifting body design that could support both orbital and sub-orbital operations. While this was the ninth orbiter PT Innovation had built, it was only the second of the GS series. This flight was making me wonder if we had missed something in the design.
“I’ve got the beacon for Hill,” Sam announced several tense minutes later. “I guess that means the nav array is intact at least. Come right to two-two-five and we’ll then track back south to line up for a straight approach.”
“How long is their runway?” Terry asked.
“Runway 14 is 4117 meters long. You should have plenty of roll space.”
“Agreed, but let’s get the speed down some more. I’m going nose up and drop some speed. Starboard engine at idle,” he said.
I felt myself press into the seat as our nose came up and we climbed some while Terry put us into a gentle turn, first further west, and then back to the southwest.
“Looking good,” Sam said as she handled navigation.
“Hill is ready for us,” I said as I read the brief message from Ops on my display.
“Come right to one four zero,” Sam said as she kept an eye on the nav display.
“I’ve got a visual,” Terry said as he banked the orbiter. “We’re on the glide path.”
I scanned my controls and then pulled my seat belt and shoulder harness tight. While the pilot and co-pilot had windows, the engineering station and the payload specialist stations blocked any view, so I had to rely on the video display to show what the pilots could see through their windows. I made sure the emergency landing checklist was clipped in place where I could easily see it.
“Ten-K to threshold. Angels four-mike,” Sam said. We were at four thousand meters and ten thousand meters from the end of the runway. It was a little higher than our typical approach profile.
“Port engine offline. Starboard engine at idle. All indicators green,” I said.
“Lowering gear,” Terry said without emotion.
I monitored the landing gear indicators.
“Gear is down and locked,” Sam reported.
“I’ve got the ball,” Terry said. “High in glide path. Correcting.”
I felt the nose come up some and watched the airspeed bleed off and the altitude drop. The deft balancing of forces was an art form that I could appreciate but did not want to try and master. I would have been inclined to drop the nose, which would pick up speed and increase lift in this craft.
“On glide path,” Terry said for the benefit of our cabin recorders. Over and over, it had been drilled into me to keep the dialog going on actions and observations to capture as much data as possible.
“Four-K to threshold. Angels one-mike,” Sam said. I had wondered why we used the “K” designator for kilometers, but called out “mike” for altitude. Evidently, “Angels” had been used for altitude in thousands of feet, so our pilots had taken the Angels as one thousand, but added “mike” to indicate meters instead of feet.
I brought my focus back to my display.
“Two-K, five hundred meters,” Sam said softly.
I took a deep breath and watched our airspeed drop, as the nose came up a little higher. The last two thousand meters seemed to take forever, even though I knew it was only a matter of moments before we pressed firmly against our seats and heard the chirp of tires hitting the runway. A moment after that, I was pressed against my shoulder straps as the brakes were applied.
“Touchdown,” Sam said.
I began going through the post landing checklist as Terry and Sam brought us to a complete stop at the southern end of the runway. On my monitor, I saw the base emergency crews surrounding us.
“Sam,” Terry said. “Let Paul and I finish the shutdown while you go pop the hatch and let them know we’re okay.”
“I’m on it,” she said as she unbuckled and headed aft to the primary crew hatch.
Ten minutes later, we were all standing in the shade of the orbiter as we looked at the communications antenna array. A small pit was evident in the carbon fiber panel, but there was nothing catastrophic about it. The port engine also looked fine.
“Whatever caused our problems,” I said softly to Terry, “It was not a debris strike.”
“Daddy, I saw you on TV!” Ali exclaimed as I came into the house in Deer Valley. “You were on a spaceship.”
I smiled, stooped to pick up my seven-year-old daughter, and gave her a big kiss on the cheek.
“I was, sweetheart. Did I look good on TV?”
She nodded with a serious frown on her face. “But Mommy was not happy with you.”
“Why?”
She shrugged and wiggled to be put down. “I don’t know, but she said Aunty Alison was going to tan your hide,” she said with a giggle before running towards the kitchen.
I shook my head and followed her to be greeted by cold stares from my wife and head of security.
“I hope you’re all right,” Jeryl said as she stood and gave me a quick kiss, “because I’m pretty sure Alison intends to see if you’ve been keeping up with your Krav Maga practice.”
I groaned and held up my hands in surrender. “I was never in any real danger,” I insisted. “Besides, Sanford was at Hill almost before we got the ship off the runway.”
Alison arched a red eyebrow at me. “Sanford was supposed to be on vacation here, this week; not chasing after you. Your detail is in California waiting on your return from orbit. I know you think security is foolish but you still have reasons to be cautious, Paul.”
I sat down and nodded. “I know. I think even more so than you realize.”
Alison sat up straighter. “What do you mean?”
“Someone managed to plant a software virus on the orbiter. That’s why we had to come down at Hill. It took out some comms and caused an engine issue.”
“How is that possible?” Jeryl asked. “I thought your protocols would prevent something like that.”
“I thought so, too. That’s why I called for Sanford to pick me up. I need Alison to get a crack team of computer forensic people together.”
Alison was nodding now. “We’ve got some people on retainer. Were they targeting you?”
“I don’t see how. I wasn’t supposed to be on the orbiter. It was a last-minute crew change and I don’t think any software was loaded after I decided to go.”
“And that’s something we will verify,” Alison said. “I will get a team moving to both the orbiter and the launch prep facility.” She stood and glanced at Jeryl. “Can you keep an eye on Rose for a bit?”
“Of course,” Jeryl said.
“And you need to be grounded,” Alison said to me. “Until we know what really happened. Understood?”
I considered arguing but then realized she was right.
“I do. I even agree,” I said after a moment.
“Good. I guess that means I won’t have to give you a spanking then,” she said with a little smile. She leaned in and gave me a kiss on the cheek before heading the out of the room.
“But I will if you do something that stupid again!” Jeryl said as she gave me a longer hug. “You scared me, Paul.”
I gave her a kiss.
“I’m sorry.”
“Paul, do you know an Allen Stenzel?” Tamara asked from the doorway of my office in Stanford. She had some papers in her hand.
“I knew some Stenzels growing up,” I said with a slight pang for Wendy.
“I’ve got a letter asking about job opportunities. It says you knew his sister.”
“I did. She was one of my first girlfriends. She died my freshman year.”
Tamara’s face fell. She fully entered my office and handed me the stack of paper.
The top page was a letter, from Wendy’s younger brother, Allen. He had just finished his masters in electrical engineering from the University of Illinois and was starting his job search. I flipped through his transcript and resume. He had attended Northwestern for his undergrad and carried nearly straight A’s throughout his college career. He had interned at Motorola and worked summers for DigiNet in Chicago as part of a tower build-out crew.
I sat down and motioned Tamara to take a seat as I re-read his letter. I remembered the last time I had seen him, at Wendy’s funeral. He was only eight or nine then. The years had flown by.
“Tamara, go ahead and get ahold of him. Arrange a trip out here for an interview. I want you to take lead on it.”
“What position?” she asked.
“I don’t know. Find out what he is interested in and get a feel for his strengths. From the looks of things, he could have gone back to DigiNet and stayed closer to home, so he must be interested in something else. Find out. Once you get things arranged, end the day with an hour with me.”
She nodded. “Got it. I’ll get everything set up.”
A week later, on a Thursday afternoon, she ushered an all-grown-up Allen into my office. I rose and came around my desk to shake his hand. He was a good looking, tall young man with his father’s broad shoulders and easy smile.
“Allen, it is good to see you again. How have you been?” I asked as I guided him to the small meeting table by my windows.”
“I’m good, Paul. I’m almost surprised you remember me.”
I smiled. “Meeting you was a bright spot in some otherwise dark times. I’m sorry I didn’t try to stay in touch.”
He waved it away. “I understand. We actually moved a couple of years later. Dad got a promotion that took us to Indianapolis.”
“How are your folks?”
“Good. They’re in Pittsburgh now.”
“So, how has your day been?”
He flashed his smile again. “Great. Tamara went over my background and then took me to meet a few of the start-ups you’re investing in down on the first floor. Then I met with Donna and discussed some of my DigiNet experiences. I also had a phone conversation with Dr. Freis in Syracuse. You are doing a lot of interesting things.”
I had gotten brief emails from everyone stating what an intelligent and personable young man Allen was, before I met with him. Everyone had liked him.
“Good. Everyone was very impressed with you as well,” I told him.
He smiled again.
“I’ve just got one problem,” I said. “I don’t know what position you are actually interested in, here.”
His smile faded and he looked nervous for the first time.
“Um, I know this may be a bit bold but I was wondering if you needed a junior assistant?”
My first thought was to laugh. My second was to stop and think. Luckily, my first thought never made it to my face.
“That’s interesting. I usually have two personal assistants. Tamara is one of them. Joseph is the other. Did you meet Joseph?”
“The British ex-marine?” he asked. I nodded. “Yes, I met him this morning but we didn’t say much, other than pleasantries.”
I sat back in my chair and thought for a minute.
“Allen, I’ll tell you what. I’ll give you a shot to see if this is really what you want. You’re familiar with our TV show, right?”
His smile was back. “Oh, yeah. I watch it every season.”
“Okay, you’re going to get your very own version over the next four weeks.”
I got up and headed to the door to call Tamara in. She looked a little bewildered when I had her join us at the table.
“Tamara, Allen is going to be your and Joseph’s gopher for the next few weeks. When I am on the road, he’ll be with whichever one of you is my shadow. If you don’t have enough to keep him busy, we’ll see what Jeryl has going. I want him to get a sense for the pace and workload you guys put up with from me. If he passes muster and still wants the job, he’ll become another PA for me.”
Tamara actually smiled at the both of us.
“Just in time to help plan this summer’s symposiums,” she said with a chuckle. My annual innovation symposium had grown over the years to almost become an internal research convention. Tamara and Joseph had insisted on professional event management help but still ran themselves ragged getting ready for it.
“That can be one task. Do you have a passport, Allen?”
“I do.”
“Great. I’ve got to be in Dublin in eight days for some meetings with the Power Systems division. You’ll come along for that. Tamara, where did you put him up?”
“The Four Seasons, but they have a group booking coming in tomorrow, so we’ll have to move him.”
“Okay, take care of that. Allen, do we need to fly you home to take care of anything before you start?”
He looked a little dazed. “Um, no. But I’ll need some more clothes.”
“No worries. Tamara will take you shopping. She knows what you’ll need from a wardrobe perspective.”
“Any African trips this month?” she asked with a grin.
“No, but we’ll be going to the Lab at least once. Get him a couple of sets of desert gear so he won’t be too hot.”
“Yes, boss,” she said with a grin. “Welcome to the madhouse, Allen. I hope you’re crazy enough to enjoy the ride.”
I shook his hand before she took his arm and headed him for the door. It was the first man I’d seen who she did not make look small. I wondered how they would hit it off over the next month.
“Thanks for making time for me, Kelly,” I said as she greeted me at the door of her new house in Georgetown. Since she had first been elected in a special election, she had been required to stand for reelection last year. It had been a virtually unopposed run, with the Republican Party candidate only picking up just under forty percent of the popular vote.
Kelly pulled me in for a hug. “Like I’m going to tell my little brother I’m too busy to meet with him?” she asked teasingly. “Or am I such a poor politician I’m going to send the world’s richest man away without at least hearing him out?”
I laughed. “I guess you’ve got me on both accounts.” I paused to look around her house. “This looks like a nice place,” I said.
“Let me give you the grand tour,” she insisted.
We quickly went through the formal areas of the first floor. They were not what I would have considered to be her style. She agreed. “But I need to entertain and be able to have meetings outside the Capitol or my offices. The first floor is pretty empty unless I’m hosting something.”
The second floor was more to my liking. It felt comfortable and private. She showed me into her home office at the end of the tour.
“Before you ask, yes, Alison’s folks have been over everything and are handling security. I think she even added an office here in D.C. for them to work out of and rotate through.”
I smiled. “She told me. They’re actually getting a lot of other discreet enquiries. Especially after the Oklahoma City bombing. I guess a lot of the government feels threatened after that.”
“It’s a mess,” she agreed. “In every briefing, the same questions are asked, and we are told we are safe, but now a lot of my associates are feeling threatened.”
“I can’t condone his actions, but based on the few things in the press, it sounds like that is part of what he was advocating. I can almost understand his thinking, but again in the end he was an extremist who did not want to actually live in a democracy.”
She nodded. It was a rehash of our discussions and interviews when the Unabomber had hit our offices.
“Surely you didn’t come all the way to D.C. to check on my security?” She chided after a pause.
I smiled. “No. I’ve got some meetings in town on Monday and thought I’d check up on you to see how the 104th Congress was getting along.”
“Bullshit, Paul. Don’t try that game on me. I spend eighteen hours a day dealing with people trying to sell me something. It’s almost enough to make me chuck in the towel and come back to the business side of things.”
“You’re welcome any time,” I said.
She waved her fingers at me with our old “give-me” meaning.
I sighed. I should have known better than trying to ease into the conversation. We had covered the family and general business aspects during the tour. She knew I had something that might affect the hill, or I wouldn’t have come in person, at least not a full day early for a Monday meeting.
“We’re going to be doing some stuff on the show this summer that might raise some questions for your committees.”
She had kept her position on the Commerce, Science and Transportation committee for the Senate and also joined the Appropriations Committee as the Chair for the Energy and Water Development sub-committee.
“Which one?” she asked as she pulled out a small notebook.
“Both, but the Appropriations one is probably more urgent.”
“How so?”
“Several of our challenges are going to involve the desalination plants in California. Depending on how things go, we might show a pretty stark contrast between what you guys are budgeting and what is really going to be needed to help improve water availability and usage in California.”
“And it’s going to air as we’re working on next year’s budget.”
I nodded. “Also, it’s pretty likely that some people are going to once again ask why the federal government is getting cheap clean power while their bills are staying the same or going up.”
“What do you mean?”
“We’re going to have excess power for the desalination plants with the latest generator design. We’ll be selling it on the open grid. One of our success measures for the interns is going to be how much power is left over from the water creation efforts.”
Kelly had been involved enough in the show to understand we weren’t talking a couple of kilowatts excess. “How much?”
I shrugged. “My initial numbers are that each plant will supply at least twenty megawatts, which is roughly enough electricity for forty or fifty thousand homes. The Interns are likely to beat that number with the variables they can play with.”
“And you can’t just make more clean water with it?”
“California is looking at a purchase of thirty stations, partially funded with federal dollars. That will more than cover the gap in natural production. If they make excess water, they are going to need fewer plants, than they’ve already contracted for. I think the voters are going to want the power to go with their water.”
“So, what are your blockers?”
“I’ve got none. The public has two; PG&E and the unions. It’s still the same old issues. It seems like whenever we take one step forward, they push us two steps back.”
“So, what do you want me to do about it?”
I smiled. “If I knew that, I’d just tell you. I don’t know what might have a chance of working. I do know this could be an opportunity for you to broker a deal that’s good for your base and may have national implications. The Nuclear Regulatory Agency falls under your sub-committee for appropriations. Commerce and Science is the focus of your other one. Between the two, you are the only member on both, so if you can think of something, it’s a good bet it will have decent support on the floor if it gets out of both committees.”
She rubbed her temples and jotted down a couple of notes. “Any carrots we can use to move things forward?”
“We’re discussing back-to-back seasons of the Interns. We could probably find some way to work in a congressional challenge in the fall taping for spring airing. It’s not much but it might have enough vanity appeal to give you some leverage.”
“Why are you doing back-to-back runs?”
“That’s the other item. Next year we’ll have a sequel. We’ll keep doing ‘The Interns’, but a year from now, you’ll also see the premier of ‘The Interns - Orbital’.”
“Which is the other shoe, right?”
I nodded. “It’s got a lot more lead time for the projects, since space is not a very forgiving environment. We’re planning a couple of teaser challenges this season to test out the appeal from viewers but it has already tested well with both the network and the applicants for the show.”
“And it’s going to require us to revisit the charter?”
“No but there might be a call for it from the viewing public. Since we’re still defining all the challenges, I thought I should give you a heads up in case you needed any political leverage. Some things are going to have to be done in specific locations but there might be opportunities for other challenges.”
“Like what?” she asked. “Help me understand.”
“Well, some of the training could be filmed in Alabama at the US Space and Rocket Center just as easily as Houston or Wright Patterson Air Force Base in Dayton. If you guide us, we can give some interplay with federal or state representatives from those locations. I would think a few million viewers would have some tourism benefits even if we don’t actually have the elected officials on the show. I’m trying to give you some chips to play with, as we talked about a couple of years ago.”
“When will you need to know by?”
“We’re looking to lock in the new shooting schedule by the beginning of August. We should have the list of challenges by the middle of June. With our current schedule, I thought talking to you now would give you a chance to think about who might be standing for re-election and throwing some positive PR their way or denying them of that opportunity as well.”
She was nodding. “I get it. I’ll have to review which seats are up and if there is an opportunity. Even the suggestion might be worth some leverage inside the DNC.”
“Just keep me out of the actual discussions. I’ll do some favors for you, but as soon as I get a call directly from them or the Republican Committee, I’m going to let Tom and Billy make the decisions.”
She smiled. “I’ll make sure anyone I talk to understands that this is a very sensitive and discrete play that I’m making.” It was part of our special arrangement to build her power base without a money trail.
“Who else are you making this special offer to?”
I laughed. “I need to keep a balance, Sis. One of my meetings is at 1600 tomorrow. I’ll let you infer as you will.”
“George is a good politician. He’ll understand and keep the Republicans in line for you.”
“And you get the Democrats,” I said in agreement.
“Now, why do you think this new show is going to cause problems instead of raise opportunities?”
“Money, why else? One of the challenges will be selecting a longer-term mission objective. The dollars are going to be discussed on national television. What are people going to think about when we are talking about a billion-dollar opportunity? You and I both know that NASA would spend two billion to bring one home. You know I won’t. Under the charter, the US of A gets most favored nation status on lift capacity. They get some modest revenue for import/excise taxes. They won’t get a billion-dollar windfall for the budget suddenly.”
“Are you serious about that kind of money?”
I nodded. “One early concept is asteroid mineral recovery. Depending on what we find, we could be looking at rare earths or precious metals in large enough quantities to skew the short-term market. Market impacts are going to be one of the assessment criteria for analysis.”
“How do you plan on making that sort of analysis television friendly?” She asked.
I grinned. “You’ll just have to tune in next year and see.”
“You do realize you’ll need to manage the timing of that message, right?” she asked with a suddenly serious face.
“I think I do. Why do you think I should?”
“Next year is an election year. Bush won’t be the man in the oval office in 1997. Depending on how you present it, you could raise an election issue in the debates. Be careful, because you might not like the direction the public runs with that sort of opportunity.”
“Shit,” I said.
“I don’t want it!” Jeremy said with the stubborn insistence only a six-year-old boy could muster as I came into the kitchen and he sat at the table looking out the window.
Mrs. Eccles gave me a look, clearly at the end of her willingness to argue.
“What’s the matter, sport?” I asked as I sat down next to him.
“I don’t want cereal. I don’t like it.”
“But that’s what you asked for when I gave you a choice twenty minutes ago,” Mrs. Eccles chided.
“Is that right, Jeremy?”
“But I don’t like it.”
“Okay,” I said as I grabbed the bowl of cereal and his spoon. “Go get ready for school. We’re leaving in five minutes.”
His eyes got wide at my words and wider as I dug into his bowl of cereal with his own spoon. I was glad to taste that it wasn’t one of the sugar coated, mushy-mouth things they advertised on television but the plain oat squares I usually had. I swallowed a bite and looked at him.
“Get moving. You made your choice. Learn to live with it.”
He stared daggers at me before pushing back from the table and stomping away.
Once he was well up the stairs, Mrs. Eccles laughed.
“That’s one way to deal with him,” she said.
I nodded and asked for a pen and piece of paper.
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