A New PastChapter 61: Growing Up free porn video

“Dad, can we talk for a minute?” Ali asked as I settled into a lounger on the sunny deck of the Lumiere, a luxurious yacht I had chartered for at least the first part of our summer vacation.

The fifty-meter floating palace had comfortable accommodations for twelve, though we were only counting on having eight to ten guests aboard, since at least one stateroom would be reserved for a security team traveling with us. I had planned on spending at least three weeks aboard in the Mediterranean, sharing a beautiful part of the world with Chrissy, the kids, Mom and Jim, and the Salaways, though not all at the same time. We had embarked in Monaco and were now sailing along the coast to Portofino where Mom and Jim would join us.

“Sure, honey. What’s up?” I asked.

One of the crew came over and offered me a drink. I opted for a glass of white wine and tried to keep my face neutral when Ali asked for the same. The bartender-slash-steward looked at me for confirmation before going to retrieve our drinks.

“So,” Ali said as she watched me take a sip of the cool white wine. “What do you think Aunt Kelly’s chances are for election?” she asked.

The topic surprised me. I shrugged. “I think she’ll win. I just don’t know whether it will be by a little, or a lot. Why?”

“Well, ever since spring break, I’ve been thinking about flying and what I want to do next year, and for college.”

Ali was a great daughter, but had gone through quite a short-term, self-centered phase after her ‘sweet sixteen’ birthday. I had known she had a strong sense of entitlement, and finally took steps to try and get her a little more grounded. Terry and a few ex-military staff members had helped out under the guise of ‘survival training’. Having to fend for herself in some cold mountain terrain had given her a bit of a wake-up call. I had tried to reinforce some lessons by sending her to help at some of the desalinization stations in Africa over long weekends. She had gone as a worker, not as someone of privilege. I think those visits had finally gotten through to her. Since then, she had actually been thinking and working toward a future she wanted instead of assuming I would hand it to her.

“That’s good,” I said before taking a sip of wine. “What’s that got to do with Aunt Kelly and the election?”

She took a tiny sip of wine and then smiled at me. My heart melted a little. She reminded me so much of her mother.

“I know I can fly on my own and probably learn more, faster, than anywhere else, but I’m worried that I’ll only be viewed as your daughter instead of as a fully qualified pilot.”

I nodded.

“So, I was thinking that if I want to be taken seriously as a pilot and to have the experience that others will recognize, I should look at going into the Air Force or the Navy.”

I was shocked. I wasn’t opposed to the idea, but I was totally surprised by her interest and thinking.

“And you don’t want to get accepted just because your aunt is the President or your dad is, well, me?”

She nodded and took a gulp of her wine.

I considered her for a minute. Chrissy came up to the sun deck in a stunningly small bikini, saw Ali and I talking and then decided to sit at the aft end of the deck. She smiled and gave me a little wave before I responded to Ali.

“My recollection is that you have to win a nomination on merit before you gain an appointment from a congressman, senator, or the Vice President. I think the President can only appoint qualified applicants who have an active duty parent, so that should not be a problem.”

“That’s true, but I’m still worried that I’ll be singled out because of who you two are, not because of what I can do.”

“It’s possible, but neither of us will disown you, so you’ll have to figure it out if that situation arises. You’re going to face that situation no matter where you go to school. You know, even if you get into one of the service academies or take an ROTC scholarship, there is no guarantee that you’ll get slotted to flight school, right?”

She nodded.

“It’s a risk, but if that happens, I’ll put in my four years, get out and pay my own way through one of the commercial programs. Either way, it will give me some credibility of achieving something on my own.”

“You’ve already passed what most of those programs would teach you, Ali. You’re sixteen and have a lot more hours logged than you need for a commercial license. We bent a lot of rules with your instruction, getting you a student waiver license at fourteen, so a lot of people will assume influence was used rather than hard work. Technically, you only qualify for a student license right now.”

“But as soon as I turn seventeen, I can get my full private pilot’s license, and then when I turn eighteen, I’m qualified for a commercial license. Then I’m just marking time until I’m twenty-three and can test for my ATP. I figure, if I have my private or even commercial ticket before going to school, I can stay current on breaks and build up hours even if it’s on my own time. What can I do for six years that will make me a better, more qualified pilot? That’s what I’ve been considering.”

I was impressed. She had thought things through, at least.

“Okay, so you think having military experience will help you. I get that and can’t really disagree. Do you think you can get in?”

She nodded.

“I’ve got the academic requirements covered as long as I keep my grades up. Extracurriculars should be good with soccer, cross-country, field hockey, the National Honor Society, and French Club. Add in my flying and I think I can make it. Especially if you let me do a few other things,” she finished.

“Oh? Like what?” I asked, knowing this was the other shoe dropping.

“I want to work some this year, starting this summer.”

“Okay. Where do you think you can get a job?”

I suspected she was going to ask me to give her one.

“I’ve done some checking and can count time working in the family business for my application,” she said with a smile. “I was going to look at working retail at the Nike Store in town but thought Lila would nix that for security reasons. I didn’t really want to have to beg you for a job, but when I realized I would have to account for security, I figured I better talk to you about it.”

I laughed and shook my head. I was neatly boxed in. I could ensure her safety by giving her a job.

“Well, I don’t like the idea of you working directly for me,” I hedged. “I have a hard-enough time making sure I’m not giving Chrissy preferential treatment. If you are around all the time, I worry that everyone will just assume you are going to tell on them if they don’t do what you want them to.”

“Dad! I wouldn’t do that,” she protested.

“It wouldn’t matter if you did or not, some people would think it. Other than flying, what are you good at? What ideas have you already come up with?”

She took another sip of her wine.

“I’d like to do something related to flying but know I can’t actually fly people around with my student license. I suppose I could work in the mail room or be someone’s gopher in a worst-case scenario.”

I shook my head. “I’d rather deal with the security headaches than give you a make-work job. Let me give it some thought and discuss it with Tamara and the P.A.’s. They know all the crappy little jobs that you might be able to handle.”

She blew me a raspberry and then finished her glass of wine before giving me a hug. “Thanks Dad. I knew you would be able to help me come up with a plan.”

“I really hate this part,” I muttered as Allen and I sat in the control room on Astra, waiting for the Mars mission update. Depending on the orientation and relative positions of Earth and Mars, the communications delay could be as little as four minutes, or as great as twenty-four minutes. We had scheduled the landing time to give us about six minutes of lag, knowing it would shrink during the duration of the mission, and then expand again before they departed to return to Earth.

“Believe it or not, you get used to it,” Allen said as he sipped his coffee. “We’ve had to develop the mindset of dealing with reports and issues as they arrive and accept that we may not be able to do anything more than watch as events unfold out there. Multiple missions with different time-lags drove us a little nutty at first.”

“Control, Mars-One in stable orbit, pre-landing survey complete.” Todd Walton’s voice was clear on the comm channel. He had moved up in the organization, from a lander pilot in the OTV days of lunar operations, to commanding this mission for the landing team.

“Control, Mars-Two in stable orbit, emergency response check-list complete,” Marco Perry, Todd’s former boss added. He and his crew, including Chrissy, would be monitoring the landing of the first Orion spacecraft and follow them down if there was a catastrophic emergency. Everyone hoped that would not be required, of course.

“Control, Mars-One, commencing landing operations at eighteen-hundred GMT, over,” Todd said.

I glanced at the clock. They had already started. We were now prisoners of the transmission lag.

The main screens in control showed three large views. One of them showed the control room on Mars-One, the other a view of Mars-One from the nearby Mars-Two spacecraft, and the third showed a view of the landing target. Smaller displays surrounded the main screen, showing the interior of Mars-Two, the control room on Aristarchus Base, the control rooms and media galleries in Learmonth and Park City, and several mission status telemetry and tracking screens. I forced myself to smile for the cameras I knew Billy and team would focus on me, and wished the crews safe passage, knowing it was entirely out of my hands at this point.

At 18:05:45 GMT, we saw the flare of engines on Mars-One as they began their deorbit burn and began the descent to Mars. I knew the evolution would not last long. Kicking them out of orbit was a fairly short firing sequence. The total ride from orbit to landing would be roughly seven minutes. Collectively, we held our breaths and watched the video relay unfold.

“Deorbit burn complete,” Todd’s voice said. “Adjusting to reentry orientation.”

The view from Mars-Two showed the landing craft pivot to a nose-up position even as it fell away from its orbiting sister-ship. The image dwindled rapidly as the team descended.

“Velocity at fife-point-two K-P-S. Altitude is seven-niner klicks. All systems green, over.”

Our landing profile was faster and steeper than the Viking landers had been but would also leverage the massive power available for the final landing rather than rely on parachutes or other atmospheric breaking strategies. I watched the velocity and altitude numbers on the telemetry screen. The fact that this was an easier landing than one on earth did not comfort me much.

“Velocity at fife-point-zero K-P-S. Altitude is fife-one klicks. All systems green. Commencing braking, over.”

For the next twenty-five kilometers, Todd would be firing the engines in a series of burns to slow their descent. If everything went as planned and programmed, they would be slowed to about a kilometer every two seconds at about ten thousand meters above their landing zone. This would give them sufficient time to examine the area selected for the first landing and adjust for any features revealed by the landing radar or imagery. This potential abort point had been named ‘Hold Foxtrot’ in the mission plan. It was the final programmed holding point prior to touchdown.

“Velocity at zero-point-fife K-P-S. Altitude is one-one klicks. Hold Foxtrot, over.”

Delilah Simpson, our most experienced remotely piloted vehicle operator would launch one of the small drones at this point. She would have ten seconds to separate the RPV from Mars-One and do a system check while getting a video lock on the ship. She would visually confirm the modified landing struts were deployed. She would then have an additional five seconds to get a separate scan of the landing area with the RPV radar and video. Once that final check was complete, they would be within five hundred meters of the surface and either commit to landing, or manually initiate an abort to orbit.

“Gear down,” Delilah said over the circuit. “Zone clear of obstructions,” she added.

“Mars-one, go for landing,” Todd replied.

We held our breath as the screen displayed the outside view from the lander. The dusty red landscape was stretched out with a hazy, dim sky. As the image of the horizon rose, we could see the edge of Hebes Chasma in the distance before the engines began kicking up too much dust.

I watched the altimeter. At ten meters, I held my breath.

Intellectually, I knew they were already down, and we were just waiting for the signal. That did nothing to relieve my anxiety.

“Touchdown! Engines off,” Todd called. “Mars-Two, Control, this is Mars-One, landed north of Valles Marineris on Mars!”

The room erupted into cheers. Allen slapped my back and I gave him a one-armed hug. Tamara wrapped her arms around both of us. I stood up and moved over to the wall where Jer and Ali were watching from. They gave me a big hug and I pulled them back to the control desk I had sat at.

“Mars-One, this is Mars-Two. Congratulations! Beautiful landing. We track your position at two degrees, fife minutes, one-fife point three-one seconds south, seven-seven degrees, one eight minutes, three zero point zero niner seconds west, over.”

Mars-two, this is Mars-One, we concur with location. All struts stable and locked. Post-landing checklist in progress, over.”

“Paul,” Tamara said before I could resume my seat. “Billy is waiting for you on video channel three in your office.”

I wanted to groan but nodded. It was time to face the media. I followed Tamara to the office and pulled up a hard-copy of my remarks and the soft-ball questions we had provided. Allen, Tamara and I had gone over them several times in the past two days, so I was confident I could deliver them. It was the open question and answer period that I suspected would be entertaining.

It only took a few moments to get my light weight headset on and for Tamara to align the small camera to frame me at my desk with the spectacle of the Earth passing below visible outside my office window. Billy had thought it would be a great background for the interview.

“Joining us now, from Astra Station, Paul Taylor,” I heard Dan Rather say in my earpiece. Outside the camera view, I could see the broadcast feed, so I waved and smiled as I had practiced.

“Hello, Dan,” I said.

“Paul, thank you for joining us. We’ve just watched your team make history once again, expanding the frontier of mankind to Mars, but we know this is only the first step for them. What can you tell us about upcoming events?” he asked.

“The crew of Mars-One is finishing their post-landing checklists which will ensure all systems are ready for a return to orbit and that their exploration tools are fully operational.”

“And how long will these checks take?” Dan asked.

“In training, we typically completed these checklists in under thirty minutes.”

“So, mankind will be setting foot on another planet within the hour?” he asked.

“That’s right. Once they are cleared for EVA, they will use the two rovers embarked to perform a series of geological observations and sample collection sorties from the ship. We chose the first landing site for the diversity of the environment as well as its suitability as a potential outpost construction site.”

“Yes,” Dan said. “They have landed roughly between the Perrotin Crater and Hebes Chasma. What is special about this location?”

“Dan, the Hebes Chasma is geologically unique and some scientists believe its base is characteristic of a lake with sediment deposits representative of liquid erosion. We’d like to ascertain if that is true or not.”

“You mean there could have been water on Mars?” he asked.

“We don’t know. That’s one of the reasons we want to look and study this region. The Perrotin Crater is nearby and appears to be a fairly typical, but old impact crater. We believe it will give us an interesting contrasting view of the geology of the region. We targeted a landing site about fifteen kilometers between the two features. Our rovers will take three crew to each area for closer observation.”

“How long will these missions take?” Dan asked. We were moving off the prepared questions now. It was clear he was interested, or the people in his ear were doing a great job of prompting him.

“We have budgeted three to five days for this site,” I said.

“Surely they can’t learn everything in such a short time,” he replied.

I shook my head. “Their mission is to do a rough geological survey and collect bore samples down to three meters depth. With the rovers, it should take them about six hours to obtain six bore samples and return them to the ship. We have complete labs there, ready to run the chemical analysis on the samples and to preserve the bores for further review. We believe we’ll find some very high concentrations of silicon in this region, which would be good for use in building our outpost.”

“And if they find signs of a liquid or liquid water past, will they extend their stay?” Dan asked.

“No. We’re planning on building a scientific outpost on the surface. If they were to find signs of water, this location would jump to the top of the list for the base location, but we don’t want to pick from the first place we look at. I and the team have planned for a minimum of three site surveys. We may build at this first site, or we may not build until the sixth site. Mars-One is equipped for up to ten survey landings.”

“Paul, this is quite different from how the initial lunar missions were managed. Is this safe?”

“Dan, we have dramatically different technology and infrastructure from when NASA first went to the moon. Then, we had no on-site lab capability, limited consumables, and no rescue capability. Now, we have a truly massive ship that holds special labs and analysis tools. We have loaded consumables sufficient for a six month stay with up to a two-month contingency reserve. And finally, we have a ship just as capable already in orbit to assist if there is any sort of emergency. We planned this to be as safe of a mission as possible.”

“But your astronauts will be exposed to a truly hostile environment,” he said. He held a note card in his hand. “The days on Mars could reach a temperature of ninety degrees Fahrenheit, and then plummet to a hundred and thirty-five below zero at night. The atmospheric pressure is so low, their blood would boil if they went out without a spacesuit.”

“That’s right, Dan. There won’t be any beach parties on Mars, but we’ve trained long and hard to make sure our people are ready and have the best equipment to carry out their mission.”

“And what is that mission, in the long-term, Paul?”

Here was the unscripted part of the interview.

“Right now, it is to establish a long-term base and learn about the planet and environment. Once we know a lot more about Mars, we can determine what direction that mission takes. Perhaps it will only be a research outpost, but I suspect that many people from Earth will want to at least visit the Red Planet. If there is a business case for it, we’ll build accommodations and schedule regular tourist trips. Right now, we don’t know what the playing field will look like, we only have hopes and dreams. Time will tell us,” I concluded.

“And, given it is an election year, what role do you see the United States of America playing on this new playing field?” he asked.

I smiled for the cameras. “My orbital lift business operates under the charter with the government. We’ll obviously ensure we comply with the requirements of that charter. With regard to Mars, and the Moon for that matter, we are guided by principles not codified by a charter or policy. While I hope the governments of the world would acknowledge and codify such principles, until they do, we’ll continue to operate and learn all that we can.”

“What sort of principles do you mean?” he asked. This was a much different tack than I had publicly shared before.

“I and my team operate under a few general principles. Firstly, we believe in learning and exploring the worlds around us. We believe in sharing our findings in a free and open manner. Secondly, we believe that mankind is destined to spread beyond the friendly grasp of Earth. As such, we want to prepare for that future. Thirdly, we believe that the Earth is too fragile of an ecosystem for us to continue exploiting her finite resources. With that in mind, we will seek out extra-terrestrial resources and determine safe and efficient methods of bringing those resources to market.”

My gauntlet had been cast down. I hoped Kelly was ready for it.

We were all back in the control room, watching the first EVA on Mars. Delilah had the RPV hovering for a beautiful shot in the Martian morning with the primary EVA hatch in focus as it slid open and a ramp extended from the interior of the ship. Todd Walton as the mission commander was leading the first EVA with Noah Walsh, one of our seasoned extraterrestrial geologists, and Bryce Tilden, the mission documentarian. Together, they stopped at the top of the ramp, waved at the RPV and its camera, and then descended to stop a step away from the edge.

“I used to dream about escaping my ordinary life, but my life was never ordinary,” Todd said clearly. “I had simply failed to notice how extraordinary it was. Today, there is no doubt that I and my crew mates live extraordinary lives. We all want to thank the thousands of people that allowed us to make this incredible journey. Your support has meant everything to us. Finally, we take these steps for everyone on our home world and hope they are footsteps a world of people can follow in.”

He stepped down, with his two companions only a half-step behind him. They all paused and posed for the camera. Cheers erupted in the control room, and I saw similar reactions on the news coverage on the displays from around the world. We had decided to not plant any flags or exchange any congratulations due to the time-lag involved, so they were soon busy carrying out the first sensor package that would be left on-site, while Bryce documented the scene and their work.

“Team,” I said into the internal communications channel, “this is Paul Taylor, and I want to echo Todd’s comments. None of this would have been possible without your perseverance and passion to send a mission to Mars. I am personally thankful for all of the hard work. Remember this moment and the part you have played in it. Be proud, be confident, and know that we have all been part in making history.”

More cheers filled the control center.

“Paul, the networks are requesting you again,” Tamara said.

I shook my head. “I’ll go back on once the rover is deployed. Let them know they can have 15 minutes while the team moves to the first survey site.”

She nodded.

“Mars-One, Mars-Two, this is control,” Allen said. “Congratulations on being the first manned mission to Mars. Here are a few words Paul Taylor just shared with us all here, over.” He then sent the compressed audio file to them. I gave him my best dirty look and shook my head, but he just grinned.

“They deserve to know how proud we all are of them,” he said.

“Whatever,” I replied. “The telemetry on the rover looks good,” I said, trying to get him focused back on the mission.

“The team is handling all that. You know we can’t really micromanage them with twelve minutes for a back-and-forth exchange, right?”

“No. How’s the other mission going?”

Allen glanced down at his console display. “They’ve set their anchor and are starting the wrap process. Katiana sent a video clip update a few minutes ago.”

The mission to ‘the nugget’, Orion-three, was occurring in a different part of the Solar System, but nearly as far away as the Mars teams. Rather than general broadcast communications, such as the people of Earth were watching from Mars-One, Katiana’s team was using tight-beam communications and relying predominantly on email-type communications. They were sending their data and communications to the Moon where they were forwarded to our internal network.

I pulled up her message and clicked “play” on the video file. It opened in a small window.

“Control, this is Orion-three,” Katiana said to the camera. “All systems are green. We have completed setting the anchor and have begun deploying the wrapper for the nugget. Current spool rate is point one-four-four meters per second, as projected. Our estimated wrap time for the first wrap layer is one-hundred days at the current rate. We are preparing for positioning maneuvers that should allow us to triple our wrap speed but will wait until tomorrow to begin those maneuvers. Crew morale and health is good. Once the wrap is complete, we will initiate the minor orbital correction as planned. We have determined that there is more dense material present than previously projected. We’re continuing spectrographic and chemical analysis and will report more once tests are complete. Orion-three, out.”

I thought about her report and pulled up our planning notes. The wrapping process was slower than I liked. If they ran into problems and could not up the speed, it would take nearly three months to completely enclose the asteroid and make it ready for retrieval. I drafted a note for Thomas and forwarded it along with the video report to him for review.

“Allen, I think we need to build some more RPVs that can help with the wrapping process,” I said.

He looked at me and nodded. “Can we wait a few weeks to start designing and building? We’re just a little busy right now.”

I gave him a dramatic sigh. “I suppose. In the meantime, I see the rover is deployed. I guess that means I have to go talk to the newsies again.”

Allan laughed. “You’d better hurry before Tamara or Billy hunt you down.”

I shook my head and decided to take his advice. Who knew sitting on the sidelines would be such draining work?

“Dad,” Jer said as I came back into the apartment on Astra. “Where are we going to be for the Fourth of July this year?”

I moved over to the couch he was sprawled out on in front of one of the panoramic windows with the Earth on glorious display below us.

“I hadn’t really thought about it, why?”

He licked his lips and glanced out the window. “If we’re going to be in Park City, I want to invite someone to wherever we watch the fireworks from.”

“What if it’s too dry again and they have a fireworks ban?” I asked. “We’d probably go to New York then.”

He looked at me. “If we do, I’d still like to invite someone, but her mother would probably have to come too, then.”

I tried not to smile. I knew Jer liked girls. I was just wondering when he would finally work up the courage to ask one out. He was growing into a fine-looking young man. He had my broad shoulders and dark hair, but his mother’s chin and strong cheekbones. I could imagine a lot of young women being attracted to him. I could also imagine a lot of unscrupulous women or even mothers trying to take advantage of him. His artistic nature was often too accepting and forgiving.

“Who’s this mystery guest?” I asked.

“Gillian Grey,” he said.

“Have I met her or her mother?” I asked, trying to place a face with the name.

Jer nodded and pulled out his sketchbook. He flipped to the middle of the book and showed me a pencil drawing of a young woman, looking back over her shoulder at him. She was attractive in a girl-next-door way. Once I saw the picture, I knew I had seen her and her mother at a couple of the baseball games last summer, and at some school functions.

“Do you think they would be able to go to New York with us? I mean, you haven’t been around Park City since school finished up.”

He nodded. “Yeah, I’ve been trading emails and IMs with her for the past month. She’s been jealous of me a little. If they went to New York with us, she might not mind that I’ve been boating in Europe and up here since school got out.”

“Well, why don’t we plan on watching fireworks from the New York apartment. I’ll make sure there is room there for them or on the floor below. If you want to ask her, and she says they can go, just let me know. I’ll have Tamara arrange everything.”

“Thanks, Dad.” He looked at his drawing again. “Do you think I’d be able to take her to the Guggenheim or MOMA while we’re there? She really likes art.”

I smiled. “I’m certain something can be arranged. We’ll make it a nice trip for everyone.”

Dearest,

I was going to start this with ‘Dear Paul’, but thought that sounded too much like ‘Dear John’ and I definitely don’t want to send one of those letters, especially via email. I miss you, and I miss being able to pick up my phone at the end of the day and chat with you, even if it’s just for a few minutes.

The trip out, entering orbit, and even the landing of Mars-One was exciting, even if we weren’t the ones in the limelight, but now that we’re onto the third survey site, a bit of boredom has set in. You know all of the mission details, and we are still doing our job, but somehow doing a job that is all analysis gets a little ‘routine’. We dutifully analyze the cores after each site survey but are finding pretty much the same things. We’ll be able to build at any of the sites. I suspect we’ll end up choosing the one with the highest amount of accessible water, since we’re learning there is some present, though not much, at each site.

We perform emergency drills and rescue simulations every day, and take our turns standing bridge watches as well, but it seems like we are twiddling our thumbs until it’s time to land and start building.

Sorry if I’m whining. Riley, as our botanist, must be going even more stir crazy. She can’t even start any real experiments given the relatively small sample sizes we’re using.

I have gotten to like zero-gee for sleeping. I just wish I had someone to snuggle up with while floating around. I miss you. I love you. Say hi to Ali and Jer for me.

Love,

Chrissy