Chapter 48: An Ending

“So, what does the research actually tell us?” I asked as the oncologist finished explaining his approach for Jim’s treatment.

“What do you mean?” It was clear he was not used to patients or their families challenging his assertions.

“I mean, how many times has this treatment been used? What have been the range of outcomes? How broad a sample base is there? I want to know if this is the best treatment regime based on science, not the latest pharmaceutical rep’s sales brochure.”

He bristled. “That’s a little insulting.”

“Really? It is only life and death, here. Why are you feeling insulted? Jim is the one that has to agree to your treatment plan. He is going to ask my opinion, as well as that of his daughter, the Vice President of the United States, my step-sister who is also a doctor and probably at least one other medical practitioner. Knowing the detailed outcomes is a reasonable request. If you feel that is insulting, I’m going to insist he get alternative opinions.”

The doctor took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, you are right. I have the original research data here somewhere as well as clinical trial information. You’re asking the same questions I would ask anyone new to my staff. I’m just not used to getting those kinds of questions from patient families.”

I nodded as he turned to a file drawer behind him. We spent the next thirty minutes going over the material he had, and I made several notes to follow up on.

“How are you going to get answers to those questions?” he asked as I recapped my concerns.

It was my turn to smile. “I’m usually pretty low-key, but I am the richest man in the world. I’ll call the primary researcher on the original study and ask for their raw data results. I’ll then make certain nothing was overstated or omitted in the peer-review process. If need be, I’ll get my sister to call the Surgeon General for a favor. Jim is very important to me and my mother. I want to make certain we are doing everything we can for him.”

A couple of hours later, I was back in his office.

“Based on my follow-ups, it seems the chemo is of questionable value depending on the stage of the cancer.”

“I agree. That’s why we need to remove the growth and assess if anything has spread beyond the colon to the lymphatic system. I believe we caught it very early. That’s why I want to proceed with the surgical procedure tomorrow.”

I was nodding when his office door opened, and a dark suited man entered the room, followed by Kelly. I caught a glimpse of Alison and another security professional in the hallway.

“Madame Vice President,” the doctor said as he stood and shook her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Thank you Doctor Waldroop. Call me Kelly. I see Paul already has a list of notes,” she said with a smile. “Would you care to summarize, brother?”

I did, quickly covering what we knew about Jim’s diagnosis and treatment options as well as what the gaps in our knowledge were.

“How’s Mom doing?” Kelly asked after my summary.

“Worried, but good. The hardest part is not knowing the extent yet.”

Kelly nodded. “So, surgery tomorrow and then we determine follow-on treatment?”

The doctor nodded. “That’s what we were just discussing.”

“What are the ranges of outcomes we should be considering?” she asked.

The Doctor gave me a glance before answering. “There is always a risk from any surgery. Aside from that, if we caught it early and there is no spreading, the prognosis is very good. We will have some treatment options including radiation, chemo, and simple monitoring. If it has spread beyond the colon, we’ll need to determine next steps. If it is stage one or two, the five-year survival rate is in the eighty-five to ninety percent range.”

Kelly nodded.

“Paul, what do you think?”

“I don’t think we gain anything by delaying the surgery, and we will have a much better idea of the severity afterward.”

“What’s dad think?”

I smiled. “He asked me to talk to the doctor and then get back to him. I was just finishing up here before having that conversation.”

“Then I made it just in time. Let’s go convince my stubborn father what’s best for him.”

I chuckled, since I knew Kelly was the more stubborn of the two.

By the time we took Mom back to the Hotel, we were all feeling comfortable with the treatment plan for the next few days. The secret service team ushered us through the lobby of the Marriott close to the hospital and dissuaded any interruptions before we reached the elevator.

“My team was a bit miffed to learn you had taken over the top floor already, Paul,” Kelly said in a teasing voice.

“You have a suite up there,” I replied. “I knew you were coming. I’ve also got a block of rooms one floor down if you need them.”

Kelly glanced at the agent in the elevator with her. He nodded.

“It’s all taken care of, ma’am. Miss Wilson informed us of the arrangements. We’ve also established contact with the local authorities.”

Kelly shook her head. “I guess the days of just hopping on a plane are definitely over.”

“If your team is as good as Alison’s you’ll get used to it. Lord knows I did.”

“But you’ve been doing it since high-school. How did you manage to beat me here? You were in Australia last I heard.”

I smiled again. “It’s good to have a GOT. I came straight here. Jeryl’s still in Utah with the kids. Alison probably had as long of a trip as I did since she had to wait for a GS-3 to get to her.”

“When are you going to sell some of those to the Air Force?”

Our elevator arrived at the top floor and the secret service agent proceeded us off the car. Kelly and I followed and entered her suite. Mom and I were across the hall.

“To answer your question, probably never. The ones we’re leasing to Qantas include pilots and maintenance. I don’t see the Air Force going for that.”

“Why? I mean, why did you do the deal like that?”

“Control. I want to know that we have some control over where and who is flying these. Put a suicide pilot in one, and you have a hypersonic missile just waiting to hit. I don’t trust the airlines enough to give them that kind of power. I guess the same can be said for the air force, but the risk is a little different there.”

“How so?”

“If I give them to our Air Force, then I’ll be asked by our allies for the same consideration. Pretty soon, we have hundreds of groups hopping all over the place. We don’t have a global air and space traffic control system. If I’m the only one operating the planes, we can coordinate better.”

“I think you had better sharpen your arguments,” she said as she poured a scotch for each of us. “The Air Force is knocking down my door trying to get me to influence you.”

I took the drink and gave her a silent toast before taking a sip.

“I know. At the end of the day, they are going to insist or try and invoke the charter for leverage.”

Kelly snorted and took her own sip before replying. “Your new show is going to bring up the charter before the Air Force does. Even if the lunar team doesn’t win, the people are flocking to the idea of us going back to the moon. NASA is spending a lot of time at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, lately, and more than half of congress is lining up behind them.”

I smiled, glad that no one had let the cat out of the bag yet. The finale was two weeks away.

“Maybe we’ll have a US only race back to the moon,” I said.

“Or maybe they’ll decide to nationalize your efforts,” Kelly warned.

“You know they can’t do that under the charter. We have specific clauses preventing it.”

Kelly nodded, and we moved to the sitting area in her suite. “I know that, and you know that, but I’ve heard some crazy talk in the past couple of weeks.”

“Well, remind them of the revocation and termination language.”

“Do you really want a showdown?” she asked.

“No. But I won’t let them nationalize our efforts.”

“They’ll hold the Space Treaty over your heads to get what they want,” she warned.

“Then I’ll relocate to Kenya or Tanzania. I’ve still got Iran in play as well. It’s too important to us all to get back into space in a real way.”

“So, what can we do to keep it from becoming a showdown or crisis?”

I smiled. Jeryl and I had spent weeks kicking around ideas.

“Every team has some sort of concept for establishing a larger orbital presence as the start of their plan. We’ll be building a station. What if we opened space for the US as well as the UN for research in orbit? Let the bureaucracies decide who and what gets researched?”

“At what price?”

“We’re working on that. I think it will be cheaper than rational minds would consider, but more than government types think. We’ve got pretty good cost models now, so can justify the numbers.

“How much?”

“We’re looking at twenty grand per person, per day,” I said. “That’s exclusive of training and lift costs.”

“Shit. That much?”

“Put it in perspective. Add up the shuttle costs and then divide by the number of man-days spent in orbit so far. We’re a lot cheaper.”

“Really?”

I nodded. “Orders of magnitude. Even with lift and training costs, we’re a lot cheaper than what the governments are spending.”

“What sort of research?” she asked.

“It will depend on the station design, but if we go with a spoke and wheel shape, I’d be able to offer a whole spoke to give everything from zero to fractional gravity environments.”

“That’s pretty generous. What if there is not enough demand?”

“Then I’ll use the space. We’ve got some new material processes that are going to require room to grow as we ramp production.”

“Production of what?”

“Radiation proof habitats for use where ever we go beyond low earth orbit.”

She arched an eyebrow at me.

“Anyplace specific?”

I smiled. “Sorry, sis. You’re just going to have to watch the show like everyone else.”

I sighed.

My list of divergences between what I knew from my first life and what was happening now was growing apart at such a rapid pace, I could hardly keep track of the differences any longer.

Part of me wondered if I should even try.

I looked at the notebook page again and began to transcribe some of the key events I recalled to a fresh page. I then began noting trends across them. The rise of fundamentalism was much slower than I previously recalled, but not gone. We just had not had the wars that gave proof-points to those who wanted to promulgate a belief of intolerable differences and hate. Our environmental disasters had been somewhat abated by cleaner energy, but we still had a long way to go. We were preventing further decline, but not reversing damage already done.

“What are you working on?” Ali asked as she came into my home office in Deer Valley.

I closed my notebook and smiled at her. She was nine now and growing like a weed as the saying went. Ski season was finished for the year and she had recently become interested in mountain biking. Jeryl and I encouraged her interest in anything physical. It looked like she had just come in from a ride.

“I’m just looking over some notes. What are you up too?”

“Mommy told me to ask you about sailing this summer,” she said, as if it was not really her idea.

“Did she?” I asked.

She nodded.

“I suppose we could go sailing a time or two this summer if you want. How about we go out for each A you get on your report card?”

She smiled. “How about we go for a week for each A?” she countered.

“Ah, so now we’re negotiating. How many classes do you have?”

“Reading,” she said as she raised a finger. “Writing, math, science, social studies, art, and PE. Seven classes.”

“And summer break is twelve weeks long. You want to sail more than half the summer?”

She smiled and nodded.

“Well, how about we compromise? I offered one week, and you want seven. What if we get three weeks of sailing in, but not all at once?”

“Only three?” she asked with just a hint of a whine.

“Maybe four. You know we’re doing the show in Australia soon. What if one of the weeks was sailing there on the Barrier Reef?”

“Could Jane visit and go with us?”

“We’ll have to see.”

“Okay, let’s go tell Mom,” she said as she grabbed my hand.

Five minutes later, we were in an ad-hoc family meeting making plans for the summer. Jer was interested in going back to the reef. He had enjoyed the snorkeling and playing in the warm waters of the Coral Sea. He then asked about visiting Nana and Papa, as he referred to Janet and Jerry. He liked the farm. Ali agreed that would be nice.

“Well, we need to be at the Farm in June anyway, for Aunt Jyl’s wedding,” Jeryl added. She grabbed a large paper calendar and began filling it in.

“School ends here,” Ali said and pointed at the Friday after Memorial Day. “What’s this star for?” she asked when she looked at the weekend before.

“That’s mommy and daddy’s tenth wedding anniversary,” Jeryl said with a smile and a look in my direction.

“What’s that?” Jer asked.

Jeryl explained while I took her pencil and jotted in a few of the filming dates that I knew would require one or both of us.

Soon, we had a rough outline of our summer plans, starting with the first episode of the Interns in mid-May and finishing with Labor Day and the Emmy Awards ceremony on September 14th.

“It looks like another busy summer,” I said. Jeryl nodded.

“Mommy,” Ali said as she looked at the calendar. “Will you call Jane’s mum and see if she can visit us here?” She pointed at the first trip to the reef we would all make.

“I will honey. I’ll see if they can all come for a visit. If they can’t we’ll see about stopping in Sydney for a couple of days to see them. Okay?”

Ali nodded.

I shook my head. In the space of thirty minutes, I had gone from worrying about a blurry past and future to planning a summer with a family I had never dreamed of having in my first life. The differences were truly amazing.

“I like that outfit,” I said as I admired Jeryl in her black garter belt, hose, and matching bra. She was standing in front of the mirror in Kelly’s Georgetown house with a dress in in each hand, trying to make up her mind. I was already dressed, wearing a hated tie, but not yet in my jacket.

“Which?” she asked turning to face me.

“The one in the middle,” I said with a leer.

She stuck her tongue out at me and turned back to the mirror.

“How was Jim’s check-up?” She asked as she alternated holding up the two dresses.

“Mom said his numbers were good and he was pretty much back to his old self.” I admired her panty-clad ass for a minute and then glanced at the clock. “Go with the green one,” I said. “It’s a private dinner, so black might be too formal.”

“Okay,” she said before ducking back into the walk-in closet to hang the black dress back up.

“Why do we have to go to this thing?” I asked, though I knew the answer.

Jeryl came back out, wearing the green dress and walked over to me for help with the zipper.

“Because the President of the United States invited you to a private dinner along with your sister and his Chief of Staff.”

“I know, but why now? Did Kelly mention anything?”

“Not to me. Maybe they’re just fans of the show.”

The finale of the Orbital Interns had aired the week before and set new ratings records. We had been doing the morning and late show circuit this week along with the winning team and many of the other participants, including Jyl and Collin.

An hour later, we were in the residence dining room at the White House, with the Gores, his chief of staff Ron Klein and his wife Monica, and Kelly and her date for the night, Senator Stanley Kim from Washington. Conversation was light-hearted and non-political over drinks and dinner, aside from some joking around Kelly and Stanley demonstrating bi-partisan partnerships. Stanley was a Republican, so even a social engagement with the democratic Vice President was fodder for the press and politicians.

“How much time did you actually spend in Space?” Tipper asked Jeryl as coffee was served.

“What was it Paul? Thirty days over the course of the show?”

“About that. I think our longest stay in orbit though was only about four days.”

“I can’t imagine floating like that for four minutes, let alone four days,” Tipper replied.

“I actually found it incredibly relaxing,” Jeryl replied. “Of course, not everyone does. Some folks have trouble sleeping, others never really get their equilibrium in control. We have about one out of ten people not make it beyond our introductory course.”

“I’d love to give it a go,” Stanley said. “Maybe the committee should do a fact-finding mission,” he added. He was on the Senate Commerce, Science, and Transportation Committee.

I smiled. “I’d be happy to host the entire committee, if they can pass the physical screening, and so long as it doesn’t violate any campaign finance rules.”

“Be careful with offers like that, Paul,” the President said. “You’ll have half of congress lining up for a ride.”

“It’s getting easier with the GOT being certified for orbit now.”

“Speaking of those, when are you going to sell a few to us?” Klein asked. “Both the Air Force and NASA want appropriations for them.”

“Why do they need to buy them when they are guaranteed MFN rates for transport?” I countered.

“I think they want to set their own priority of missions and flights,” Klein replied. “With the current system, they need to submit the profile and you schedule it.”

I nodded. “I also give them priority if they come talk to me. NASA is pretty good about planning in advance.”

“But not the Air Force?” the President asked.

“Let’s just say they have a different approach. I’ve worked closely with General Baker over the years. If it’s truly urgent, we can usually come to an accommodation.”

“Why not just sell him some and avoid the headaches?” Senator Kim asked.

I explained the coordination concerns, which did not seem to be strong arguments.

“The other reason is we don’t want to destabilize anything. If we sold the Air Force a GOT, we would then be approached by foreign air forces. If we refused to sell to them, the geo-political balance would be skewed. I would rather avoid that sort of unpleasantness,” I said.

“If they don’t like it, they can develop the capability themselves,” Kim replied.

“I could say the same thing to the US Air Force,” I countered. That caught him up short.

“At the end of the day, anyone can buy what I’m selling, or they can go create their own capability at much greater cost. What I won’t let them do, is force me to give away my product, be it goods, services, or intellectual property.”

“Well, let’s not put a damper on the evening,” Tipper said. “I want to hear more about what’s next for the return to the moon.”

Jeryl smiled, and I gave her a nod.

“We’ll begin launching the core of Astra Station in the fall,” she said.

“That soon?” Kelly asked.

“We finished filming the show in December. We’ve been working hard since then,” Jeryl said.

“It won’t be habitable until about this time next year, but we’ll start orbital assembly before the new year,” I added.

“How big will it be?” Tipper asked.

Jeryl looked back at me.

“It will be around fifteen hundred meters in diameter.” I said. I saw the shocked looks on people’s faces.

“We want to rotate the station to give some semblance of gravity, but there were studies done by NASA and some others that indicated issues with equilibrium if you rotate something faster than about one RPM. To get a tenth of a gravity, we need the station rim to be about fifteen hundred meters in diameter. That will have us rotating about one revolution every two-and-a-half minutes. We can adjust upward then if needed to create a greater sense of gravity.”

The President was shaking his head. “And you’ll have this in orbit and occupied by next year?”

“With a little luck,” Jeryl said. “The plant in Spain is making the modular assemblies for the station. We’ll be connecting modules end to end in orbit to make the arms of the station. We won’t start rotation until the entire rim is built out, but we’ll be able to occupy once power and environmental sections are in orbit. For safety reasons, we’ll build the six spokes at the same time from the docking hub. Three of the spokes will be livable, just like Paul’s lab already in orbit.”

“We’ll actually dock that station to the hub once we’ve got some of the spokes built out.”

“How much total volume?” Senator Kim asked.

“All in, just under two hundred thousand cubic meters,” I replied. I saw the glazed looks. “Roughly a cube fifty-six meters for each side.”

“Or a twenty-story building,” Jeryl added.

The other diners were silent for a moment.

“How long to build the entire thing?” President Gore asked.

“Three years with some contingency time,” I replied.

“And then you go to the moon?”

“Oh no,” Jeryl said. “We’ll go long before then. The station is for when we start bringing things back.”

“Buddy Check!” Tamara called out as we finished our tour of the station. A few of the new interns groaned, but they all pulled themselves together and got next to their buddy. It was a safety practice we had drilled them on during the past three days of their orientation briefings, physical tests, water safety course, and orbital indoctrination.

Once she had made certain the ten pairs of interns were side by side, she nodded to me.

“Okay,” I said. “I hope you have enjoyed your tour of the station. Hopefully, some of you will be back up here one day. In the meantime, there is one final evolution we need to do today. How many of you have been on an ocean cruise before?” I asked.

About a third of them raised their hands.

“What do they do once they are underway?” I asked to closest hand-raiser to me.

“Lifeboat drill?” the young red-headed man answered.

“That’s right. We’re going to do the same. You first five set of buddies follow me, and the back five go with Tamara.”

I turned and headed to the far end of the second berthing module. I stopped at the pressure door and checked for pressure on the far side before opening it and motioning them forward.

“Find a seat and get strapped in. Help each other out. I’ll check you once everyone is settled.”

I counted them off as they entered, and followed the last person in. Thomas watched me from the station as I secured the hatch and pulled on the comms cap before turning to check their efforts. Each lifeboat was designed to accommodate twelve crew members. Since a hab module held eight, we had built for a single lifeboat to handle 150% of the crew in a hab module, just like ships were supposed to have at least 150% capacity of their compliment.

“Okay, listen up,” I said as I made my way forward. “These lifeboats are rated for twelve people massing up to 115 kilograms each. Most of us are much less mass than that, so we have a wide safety margin. Each lifeboat is equipped with marginal environmental support for those same twelve people for up to forty-eight hours. The marginal phrase comes from the limited survival rations and waste processing onboard. In a nutshell, if you have to go, you should have done it before you left.”

The acceleration couches were in three rows with two seats on each side of the narrow aisle. The seats were tucked into each other, so once we were down, heads would be under the calves of the other passengers, separated by the material of the couch. There were not a lot of frills in our design. I checked the seat belts and shoulder harnesses of each intern as I made my way back to the hatch.

“The lifeboats are automated lifting body designs that can survive reentry if needed and have autopilots to get you safely to the ground. They are also designed to be floatable, in the event a water landing is required. Are there any questions?”

No one said anything.

I smiled and gave a thumbs up through the small viewport of the hatch.

“Lifeboat Alpha,” a voice from the station said over the announcing system as the lighting shifted to red lights. “Emergency undocking and de-orbit initiated. Godspeed.”

There was a loud thump and we shifted sideways with a hefty kick of acceleration as I slipped into one of the two open seats nearest the hatch. I quickly got my own restraints fastened as there was a babble of voices in the cabin.

“Okay everyone, remain calm. Just pretend you’re on a great ride at an amusement park and remember your training. There are comms caps in the seat pocket in front of you. Pull them on and plug them into the armrest.”

There was a flurry of motion. The red-headed intern was across the aisle from me, so I watched to make sure he was plugged in.

“Check your buddy is strapped in and has a comms hat on. If you push the button on the arm rest, you will only speak to and hear your seat mate. If the button is up, it is an open comm channel.”

The babble on the channel dropped as they did comm checks with each other.

“Now let’s count off on the open channel,” I said. “Start on the first row, port side, and count across, left to right.”

“One. Two...”

I said “Nine,” when it was my turn and waited for the last two before continuing.

“Ok, in addition to the comms cap, there is a procedural checklist in the seat pocket. Pull them out and review them. We will all watch the checklist and walk through the procedure before we actually execute it. Any questions?”

“Paul, why do we need to land? The GOT is at the station. Why can’t it recover us in orbit?” One of the female interns asked on the open channel.

“Good question. Normally, we would look for an in-orbit retrieval, but we wanted to get you all down for your first challenge. Now, starting with whoever is in seat one, let’s read the procedure.”

It took five minutes for us to read through the procedure and the emergency alternative steps. Once it was done, I had them check their straps one more time and then told them to try and relax until the retro burn started. It was about another five minutes before we heard the warning tone giving us a thirty second warning. The tone repeated and then counted down before we were all pressed against our seats as the retrorocket package fired and put us on a de-orbit trajectory.

While it normally took us about three minutes to reach orbit, and close to an hour to reenter the atmosphere in one of the orbiters, the lifeboats were designed to be much more efficient in getting us back on the ground. Once the retrorockets fired, the computer took control and flipped us into a belly-down orientation to allow the heat shield that formed the belly of the lifting body shape to be correctly positioned for reentry. We were now more of a shooting star than a spacecraft.

The interior lights seemed to dim as a glow appeared through the highly insulated viewport of the entry hatch. The interns were nervous as the roar outside rose and we had some buffeting as we dropped lower into the atmosphere and gravity returned. We peaked at close to five-gees and then felt like we were flying as the craft made banking turns to slow us further. Close to ten minutes later, I felt the nose of the craft rise and then we stalled before dropping to the ground. It was a rougher landing than an orbiter, but gentler than a pure rocket or parachute landing. I waited a minute to ensure we were stable.

“Okay,” I said as I unbuckled and stood up in the aisle. “Let’s see where we are.”

I flipped up the protective cover for the hatch release and then opened it to smell hot, dry air of Australia’s Northern Territory. As the Interns filtered out, I pulled out my phone and pressed a button. It chirped twice, and I knew the helicopter was on its way to pick me up.

“Hang around close to the lifeboat for now,” I said. “The camera crew is nearby and flying in.”

They were closer than I realized as the sound of a helicopter approached from the southwest. The chopper circled us twice before landing a little distance away. Three cameramen climbed out and quickly approached us with cameras on their shoulders. Once they gave me a thumbs up, I turned back to the Interns standing by the lifeboat.

“Welcome to your first challenge,” I said with a grin. “The lifeboat we all just rode down from orbit is equipped with standard survival kits and supplies. Your challenge will be to split into two teams of five and using the gear provided, rough it until your pickup in a couple of days.”

A few people grinned and some groaned as I continued.

“During the time between now and your pick-up, we will expect you to evaluate the gear provided, recommend improvements, give us recommendations on what should be added or removed from the kit, and generally get acclimated to life in the bush. You’re going to be roughing it quite a bit over the next few weeks.”

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