Zero-G (33 page)

Donnelly gave a nervous chuckle. “I meant no offense.”

Ginny said nothing, leaving the reporter on the hook.

Lance broke up the conversation with some explanation. “Okay, folks, just a couple of last-minute things. As you look out the port side, you will see something that you know very well: Earth. I imagine you've all seen pictures of the planet from space, but I'll bet my paycheck those pictures didn't do justice to what you're seeing now. The thin, glowing blue line you see around the planet is the atmosphere. The farther in space one travels, the thinner that looks. As you can see, it is not very thick. It's always reminded me of the thin shell around an M&M candy.”

“It's stunning,” Burke said. “I've seen a great many things in my life, and I've traveled the world, but this beats it all.”

Lance continued. “In a few moments, I'm going to clear you to release your harnesses, and you'll be free to move around the cabin. Just a couple of reminders. When you release your harness, you will experience weightlessness, but while you will feel weightless, it is important to remember that you're not massless. That means if you get moving too fast, then someone's going to get hurt. Make slow motions, and do not push off surfaces with such force you go crashing into someone else or into the bulkhead. You are free to take pictures of one another and of anything you see outside.”

Lance stopped abruptly and Tuck knew why. He had heard the same thing. Someone was coughing.

Tuck spoke. “Is everyone okay?”

“That was me,” Burke said. “I seem to have a tickle in my throat.”

Lance started again. “If you're having your picture taken, be sure to lift your visor so everyone can see your lovely faces. Since the ship is rotating, there will be moments when the sun will pour in through the windows. Here in space we don't have an atmosphere to protect our eyes, so please lower your visors when facing bright light.”

Tuck surveyed instruments on the panel before him and everything looked nominal, just as it should. “
Legacy
, Ground Control, how do you read?”

“We have you strong and clear,
Legacy.”

“Roger that, you sound good to us too. We are unleashing the masses.”

“Understood.”

Tuck switched his mike to “cockpit only” and turned his head to Lance. “Go have fun.” He motioned to the passenger part of the cabin.

Lance released his harness and allowed himself to float free, bracing himself against the cockpit cabin ceiling. The view of the passing distant stars outside made it seem as though the universe were spinning and not
Legacy
, but seeing Lance free-floating with the cockpit slowly revolving around him brought home the truth that it was the spaceship that rotated and not space itself. Using his seat as a brace, Lance pushed himself to the passenger compartment.

Tuck heard Burke cough again; this time it sounded wet. A moment later, he heard someone else cough. It sounded like Daki Abe. Something in Tuck's stomach twisted.

Outside
Legacy
's windows, Tuck could see stars made dim by the reflective light of Earth's atmosphere. Deeper in space the stars shone more brightly, but this close to the atmosphere Earth became a light pollutant. Nonetheless, it was still the most beautiful thing Tuck had ever seen.

He turned to face one of the onboard video cameras and gave a wave. Near the camera was a three-inch square video monitor. On it, he could see a wide-angle view of Ground Control. One of the controllers waved back.

“Tell my wife and kids I wish they were here.”

“Will do, Commander.” On the tiny screen, Tuck could see the man turn in his seat and look at the crowd gathered behind him. He looked for a long time.

Over the headset came the sound of laughter, and Tuck couldn't resist the urge to look behind him. He saw exactly what he expected: four passengers and one pilot free-floating in the cabin area. Someone had brought a bag of small candies and opened it, and the contents floated around like tiny planets. Ginny had lifted her visor and was attempting to catch the candy in her mouth without the use of her hands. Daki joined in the game. Burke had his face pressed against one of the windows and was gazing into the distance. It looked to Tuck as if a magician had levitated the secretary of state. Normally an articulate man, Burke simply said, over and over, “Man, oh man, oh man.”

For a moment, Tuck wished that he could join in the revelry, but his position required him to stay at the controls.

“I . . . I . . . don't feel so well.” It was Donnelly.

“Motion sick?” Lance asked, moving toward him.

“I . . . don't know. My stomach is upset. My head is starting to pound.”

“I've got a bit of a headache myself,” Burke said. “I think it's just a little disorientation.”

Someone belched loudly. It had a feminine sound to it. “Who brought the candy?”

Daki answered, “I did. I saw a video of an astronaut doing the same thing.”

“What kind of candy was it? The stuff is making me sick.”

Tuck heard her belch again.

“Reese's Pieces. I bought them in California just before I came to the spaceport. It's just chocolate and peanut butter.”

“Something is wrong with them. I've only eaten a few and I feel like I'm going to hurl.”

“Use an airsick bag.” Daki's words were sharp. “Can you imagine that stuff floating around up here? Think of the mess when we land.”

Lance moved from Donnelly to Ginny. “He's right. If you think you're going to vomit use the bags we talked about. You too, Mr. Donnelly.”

Donnelly groaned. “My head. It's getting worse. Something's wrong.”

Lance tried to comfort the man. “It's nothing to worry about; astronauts experience it all the time. Some people get headaches.”

Daki asked, “Do they also pass out? I think Mr.Burke is unconscious.”

Tuck had had his attention fixed on Ginny and Donnelly, but now he could see that his most famous passenger was floating limp near the ceiling.

“Lance?”

“I'm on it, Commander.” Lance moved to the unconscious man.

“Mr. Secretary? Mr. Burke? Are you with me, sir? Mr. Secretary?” Lance gently slapped the man's helmet. “He's out cold, Commander. His skin feels warm to me.”

“Get him back in his seat.”

Lance said, “Roger that.” Then, “Give me a hand, Mr. Abe — ”

Tuck heard retching and saw Ginny with her face buried in an airsick bag. A moment later, Donnelly did the same.

Headache. Nausea. Disorientation. It was all too familiar to Tuck and all too frightening. “Everyone to their seats. Now!”

Tuck turned so that he could face the video camera and activated the Ground Control switch.

Quain had walked into the staging area with a backpack in one hand and an electronic device in the other. Security guards stationed at the door gave him no thought. After all, he was one of them. Few took note of his entrance; all eyes were fixed on the monitors taking in every second of the historic event. Quain had counted on this. With the closing of the door, however, he did garner Roos's attention, who turned and gave him a quizzical look.

“Quain, where are the Tuckers?”

“No need to worry about them right now, you have other things to be concerned about, Roos.” As he spoke, he set the backpack down and backed away from it. The attention of the crowd shifted to him. He held up an electronic device for all to see. “Perhaps you are all familiar with the dead man's switch, but if not let me explain. I'm holding the button. Should I stop holding the button bad things begin to happen.” He motioned to the backpack.

A ripple of whispered remarks rolled through the crowd, but Quain ignored it. He made eye contact with two men dressed in suits who had fixed their eyes on him. “To our friendly Secret Ser vice agents, let me say if you reach for your guns, I let go of the switch. If you rush me, I let go of the switch. If I see you try to communicate with anyone, I let go of the switch. If I let go, the backpack will be the death of you all. And if that is not enough motivation, then know this: an identical backpack with a receiver is situated under the crowd in the stands. Your misbehavior will not only kill you, it will kill everyone within one hundred yards.” He put more distance between himself and the backpack in the middle of the crowd.

“No one moves. Everyone stays right where they are. Is that clear?”

No one responded.

“Is that clear?”

A dozen affirmative responses filled the large hangar. Quain moved to the nearest wall and put his back to it, then he ordered the guards at the doors to join the crowd. They did so without reluctance. His eyes drifted to a blonde woman of no more than thirty years. “What's your name, honey?”

She didn't respond.

Quain held out the dead man's switch and pretended to drop it. The crowd gasped. The woman shouted, “Tammy! My name is Tammy.”

“It's nice to make your acquaintance, Tammy. Now you're going to do me a favor. You see the two men in suits? Those are some of the Secret Service's finest agents. It's their job to protect the secretary of state when he travels, except they couldn't go into space with him. He's up there and they're down here. You're going to walk over to each one and let them hand you their weapon. Is that clear?”

“But . . .”

“I'm on a tight schedule, Tammy, and I don't have time to argue. Do it and do it now.”

She shook so much as she walked that Quain feared she wouldn't be up to the job, but he let her try. Fear was a great motivator. Before surrendering their weapons, Quain ordered the agents to clear the gun and remove the clip. Each did so and Quain knew they were wondering if he was bluffing or not. Tammy walked slowly toward him, and as she did Quain caught the slight movements of the agents as they began to separate from one another, putting distance between them.

“I'd rethink that, gentlemen.” Quain spoke as if he were addressing a boardroom full of executives. “A little-known fact about heroes is that they get other people killed. I promise you, I can release this button faster than you can run. Back to where you were.”

Quain kept his eyes fixed on the two until they stood shoulder to shoulder at the back of the crowd and near the Ground Control console. Satisfied that he had shut down whatever stupid idea they had, he returned his attention to Tammy, who did her best to hold two guns and two bullet-filled clips. “I'll take the clips.” Quain grabbed them and stuffed them in his coat pocket. He took hold of one gun at a time and threw it across the empty hangar. “All right, Tammy, I need you to do one more thing for me.”

“No, please, no. I'm so frightened.”

Quain smiled. “That's how I know I can trust you. Do you see that backpack I set down in the middle of the group?”

Tammy turned and looked at the object on the floor. It took her three tries to say, “Yes.”

“Good. I want you to put it on.”

She stepped around to face the thing again and raised both hands to her mouth, tears forming in her eyes. “No . . . no . . . I can't.”

“Oh, yes, you can, and you will. You have ten seconds to walk over there and put that backpack on or everyone here will die.”

“If you blow us up, you blow yourself up.” It was one of the Secret Service agents.

“No wonder you work for a government agency; you're too stupid to work anyplace else. First, people blow themselves up all the time. Second, you make a faulty assumption.”

“Then why don't you educate me.” The agent was the older of the two.

“You assume I'm trying to blow this place up. I'm not. I'm far too creative to use anything as mundane as simple explosives. What you have here in your midst, folks, is a bio-bomb. That's right — you're all gathered around the most deadly pathogen that technology can create. I know this because I created it. I also created the antidote.” He returned his attention to Tammy. “This is the last time I'm going to say this, woman. Put on the backpack.”

“No.” A man about the same age as Tammy stepped forward. He had a clean preppy look. “She's not going to do it. I'll wear the pack.”

“No, Dougie. Don't.” The words were awash with love.

“Let me guess,” Quain said. “You're the husband, right?”

“That's right. And that's why I will wear the backpack.”

Quain shook his head like an exasperated father correcting a four-year-old. “Billions of years of evolutionary history, and the human race still produces morons. Your wife is going to wear the backpack, and I have no time for a debate. If you want her to live, then take a step back and shut your mouth.”

“It's all right, Dougie. I can do it. I'm just a little scared, but I can do it.” She started for the pack and one minute later, it hung from her back. She started to return to Quain.