Chapter 6: Under Construction

The day, finally had arrived. This would be the best day of Terry’s life. Or, for that matter, the life of anyone Terry could imagine. The many large machines built in the lower levels of the RMF complex had churned and hummed for weeks. For fourteen weeks the machines assembled, molecule by molecule, the outer plates that would complete the RM5 v1.0 armor set. Testing of the plates then took another two weeks of assaulting them with punishment unsurvivable to even the most advanced substances. Once convinced of the degree of relative indestructibility hoped for by the Von Werner led team, the final assembly had taken place.

As the last pieces of the armor were applied the interior displays lit up and began showing the information according to the presets Terry had selected. Looking through the various indicators had already become rote in his experience with the prototypes. but this was no prototype, Terry was actually wearing the real Rocket Man armor. He was not as overcome with geeky jubilation as he might have predicted. Long years of practice and training had taught him the necessity for calm rational assessment of a situation before allowing the excitement to overload his judgment. “Systems nominal,” he reported into the comm. From the other end of the direct link he heard Julie’s acknowledgment The Two way voice and data link was based on a principle called “quantum entanglement” that was mostly gibberish to Terry but what was important was it was impossible to intercept and therefore one hundred percent secure. There would be no need to return to the irradiated desert to complete the last testing as only the skin layers were new, all other components had been through the ringer already.

The retractable roof of the hangar bay parted sufficiently to allow Terry’s egress. Terry turned and looked at the staff gathered in the hangar and saw that they all had stopped working and were looking at him solemnly. He noticed many were staring at him through glassy eyes. It seemed like this might be some sort of ceremony he had not been told about. Feeling like he should have prepared some sort of speech beforehand, Terry wondered if a speech was what these people wanted. Probably not, he thought. More than anything these were people who already knew far longer than him how important their work really was. What they did not hear, in person anyway, was the gratitude of those who they saved on a daily basis. People donated to the RMF, and when times were tough they would hold a fund drive or a telethon, or sometimes both. Letters that came with checks in them often included the heartfelt thanks of the sender, and often cookies too. Terry really enjoyed the cookies. Clearing his throat he switched on the public address speakers hidden in the helmet. “Thank you for your confidence in me.” He said to the techs and staff who were now gathering in a group behind Julie, who herself looked a little verklempt. “I promise you nothing short of every single thing I can do to deserve, and repay that confidence. You have given the greatest achievement in the history of technology to my care, and I fully appreciate how much your hopes of it’s success depend on me. You have given me your best, now I give you mine. Promises are not what you need to hear at this point, or the people out there either.” Switching the P.A. off terry turned his face upwards and engaged the antigrav, quickly reaching the opening in the roof. No sooner than he had cleared the roof he dialed up the power on the plasma drive. Twin flames so light blue as almost to be white shot down from the round openings on the bottoms of the pointed cylinders he wore on his back. Just as he knew would happen the roar of the unfocused plasma was deafening.

All along the lake shore people turned toward the tremendous sound to see a shining silver man trailed by a blue-white flame rising up from the RMF complex. As he ascended the sound, at first like an Apollo rocket booster changed pitch and suddenly he climbed out of sight in the space of a few seconds. Then the sounds of cheering, and honking horns and laughter were heard all throughout the city. Chicago had its favorite son back. The “experts” as usual could go screw themselves. When there was no one left in the Windy City to put on the suit that’s when there would be no more Rocket Man, and if the guys on TV didn’t think they had a chance they could go tell it to a brick wall.

The TV networks wasted no time going live with every cellphone video they could get their hands on. The large screen in the control center was tuned to CNC as the urgent music announced the next segment. “Breaking News in Chicago...” followed by more urgent music. Leslie Daniels, the profoundly attractive anchor of the prime time news team addressed the audience with her careful professional tone. “Thousands of witnesses in the second city are reporting sightings of what could be a new Rocket Man. Multiple witnesses are reporting a man in silver armor powered by twin rockets rising from the building known as the Rocket Man Foundation, or RMF Complex which is Part of the large Champions Club Property in Chicago’s downtown area known to locals as ‘The Loop.’” The screen displayed an image of another woman identified by the on screen chyron as Sara Gladstone. The disembodied voice of Ms. Daniels asked, “Sara, what are you seeing there?”

In the control room the members of the crew not currently engaged with important tasks gathered around the titan TV. Julie noticed someone had brought her a cup of coffee. It was her normal place, here at the main control desk in the center of the room whenever the last Rocket Man was on a mission she would be here, supervising. The presence of her coffee cup, filled without her having to ask reassured her that all would soon be right in the world.

On the central screen, Sara Gladstone glanced at the notebook held in her left hand and answered, her breath misting in the February chill. “Leslie it seems the entire downtown district of Chicago has witnessed this event. The sound of rockets shaking the ground, rattling the windows of skyscrapers, and setting off car alarms. A spokesman for the CPD has said that the city’s 911 call center had received complaints about the noise, when told what the operators believe the source is, callers usually cheer then hang up. It seems that all of Chicago is celebrating.”

Julie looked at smaller screen to the left, which displayed a world map with a bright spot indicating the current location of Major Grissom. She thought she should get used to thinking of him as RM5 now or perhaps informally as Terry. Most of the crew had already established a first name relationship with him, there was no special reason for formality on her part. Perhaps it was just professional detachment that caused her to regard the Major from arms length. She had taken quite a while to establish a rapport with Travis Winter, the previous occupant of the position. But then she had been just a girl when he had started his tenure. Julie had only been Project manager for the last three years of the RM4 project. It seemed that there was an extra hesitance on her part to be more casual in the Major’s presence. She could not find a logical explanation for this as he was certainly a very charismatic person, he had a gift for making people smile. She had witnessed this on many occasions, she noticed she herself was smiling. Her attention was drawn back to the screen by the appearance of a familiar face.

David Parker was the only person who worked inside this building whose name or face was known to the public. His position as public relations officer for the RMF had him in contact with the press on a daily basis. He was being interviewed by the same CNC reporter that had just been speaking. Looking behind them Julie could see the famous Buckingham fountain, which meant they were just across the street. Julie wondered if David was granting the first interview to CNC to make a peace offering to ease the very hard feelings between the two organizations. The nations largest twenty-four hour news network (now in HD), had run the gruesome footage of the last battle fought by Travis Winter against the self named Dr. Doomsday. For three straight days in a nearly continuous loop, the fight played out as an endless array of commentators second guessed the tactics, equipment, and even the very idea of there being a Rocket Man in the first place. “Maybe he’s just trying to bury the hatchet.” She did not realize she had said this aloud until she heard the reply over the comm.

“Maybe he’ll bury it in her head.” Terry seemed more mirthful than threatening. “Just kidding, We need those ghouls to take a liking to the new program or they could devastate donations.”

Terry’s assessment was correct, the coffers were running low as Buck had said. They needed to increase public support, and fast. This program was by far the most expensive project Julie had ever heard of, with a price tag in the billions. The RMF would be still paying for the initial costs for years even if donations increased significantly. Time to return to base, maybe getting a quick glimpse of the new armor will increase their curiosity.”

“I’ll try to make it fast, so they will have a good reason to go to the grand opening Saturday.” came the reply from the now speeding contact.

Julie noted his location fifty miles east, over Lake Michigan and closing fast. She returned her attention to the news broadcast.

“So the world will see Saturday what the RMF is planning?” Gladstone was saying, moving the microphone from herself to David.