Chapter 18

Freehold

Waylon's side of the closet had been rearranged. That wasn't true he realized. Some ambitious person had actually arranged it, since he never had. The new closet organization scheme didn't help him find the shirt he wanted. At least with his system he knew where things were. You wore the clean shirt on the top of the stack. When you got to the bottom, you asked the AIs to do laundry, simple.

He found Marylee in the kitchen, holding a cup of coffee in one hand and browsing her tablet with the other.

Waylon poured himself a cup and picked up a banana. He contemplated the factors involved in the delivery of the fruit from Papeete, and paused. Maybe he'd spent too much time worrying over flight logistics and supplies.

"Something amusing?" Marylee asked.

"Stray thought," he replied. "Nice shirt by the way. I should borrow one of yours sometime."

"I've got a blouse that you'd look really cute in."

"The boys would love that," Waylon said, looking for the garbage can so he could dispose of the peel.

Marylee pointed to the closet. Something else she had arranged. He decided he didn't mind.

"Waylon."

'Hmm?'

"Do you like living here?"

"You mean here in this house?"

She nodded.

"Sure."

"But, you'd be happier living closer to the others wouldn't you."

"Yeah," he replied, wondering what she had up her sleeve.

"Why don't we build a place on the bay?"

He liked the way she blushed when she said 'we.' "What would we do with this place?"

"Turn it into a museum, or let Rowen play with some dynamite."

"What brought this on?" he asked as he wrapped his arms around her.

"You're going to be gone for almost a week and I'll be here all alone in this big empty place."

"Deni Truong is not going to let you be lonely, trust me on that."

"I suppose."

"We can talk about a new place when I get back, if you really want," he said. "What do you have planned for today?"

"I'm going to do a dry run on the telemedicine setup with the hospital in Papeete. Jaidee agreed to be my guinea pig."

"Want to come down and see me after?"

"I'll be there for the christening this afternoon."

He wasn't going to push it. AI Barry had said there was little they could do to relieve her anxiety over being underground. It was spacious to Waylon, but for her it triggered deep seated fears. Medication could help to an extent and there were some interesting desensitization therapies, but they required a willing patient.

Good thing he liked a challenge.

The orbiter had been moved from the faux vehicle prep building to the hangar. Marylee was going to officially christen the spacecraft later that afternoon which would be followed by a cookout and sendoff party that Deni had organized. The vehicle was ready to go and Waylon was as ready as the AIs could make him. In twenty-four hours he would be a bona fide astronaut.

He had plenty to do to keep him busy until then. He waded through his correspondence with Penelope's help. Their new friends in Taipei were very eager to open trade negotiations. Freehold had several tons of precious metals stored not a thousand feet from him, but Waylon didn't feel particularly motivated to sell it. The island's bank accounts were flush. Besides, if the AI's plan worked, Freehold would never have to worry about resources ever again.

The thought distracted him and he had to refocus on the communiqué from Taipei. They had expressed minor interest in the rare earths. The country had a booming electronics industry. What they really wanted was access to his unique technologies and their own astronaut. The subject of Freehold's space program hadn't even been mentioned in their previous discussions. Waylon fumbled around, trying to compose a response. How did you say 'maybe' and 'not any time in the near future' diplomatically?

That wasn't his only diplomatic chore. He had written Zvi Ben-Artsi and explained about the demarche from the State Department and how he'd presumed upon their relationship. Zvi had responded promptly, despite the evening hour in Israel, and said that in the diplomatic realm exchanges of notes on the behalf other parties was standard practice and they were happy to help. He'd also sent along a personal request.

Waylon replied back and attached several photographs of the completed greenhouse. After a call to Jaidee, he added a translated note from Omo with instructions on raising healthy hibiscus for Zvi's wife.

Just a typical day on Freehold, Waylon told himself, diplomacy and gardening tips, followed by the christening of a spaceship.

AI Von dropped by to talk about the current state of affairs, as he saw them. Things were quiet. Their most recent guests, now onboard the USS Ohio, were continuing on their journey back to Guam. Even the Chinese AGI had withdrawn. The spy ship was apparently going to rendezvous with a large container vessel that was loitering about three hundred miles to the northwest. He had hoped the Chinese were getting bored, and tired of the thumping he was going to give them every time he took off or landed.

He had finished everything on his list, and he hadn't been particularly pleased with what he had accomplished. He had a thought.

"Penelope, can you put a call through to Rusty Lightner's office? Hopefully, he won't be in court."

"Of course, standby."

He closed his eyes and rolled the idea around in his head. It could solve a lot of problems, but could he talk Rusty into it?

"Waylon, this is a surprise."

"Rusty, it's been a while. Thought it was past time I checked in. How are things in Levall these days?"

"Quiet, since my favorite client has been staying out of trouble ... Waylon, you aren't in trouble are you?"

Waylon smiled. "No! I don't need bail money either. In fact, I recently had the opportunity to resolve a couple of issues with the State Department. I think it may mean that we can normalize relations at some point."

"That's excellent news, but why do I get the feeling that's not the only reason you called?"

"Are you suggesting that I might have an ulterior motive?"

"I'm a lawyer, sue me."

"Guilty as charged. Let me ask you this, have you thought any more about vacations?"

"Vacations?"

"What would you say to an all-expenses paid trip to the islands? First class tickets for you and the family to Tahiti. After you've seen the sights I'll come pick you up. We've got plenty of room and you would love Freehold. How can you say no to a couple of weeks in paradise?"

Rusty hemmed and hawed. "I don't know, it's awfully sudden and the kids are in school."

"Spring Break isn't far away if I remember correctly, and they're young. Think about all the bonus points your wife will give you for actually taking her on a vacation."

"What's brought this all on?" Rusty asked.

"What do you want to do after you retire?"

"Retire? I'm way too young to retire."

"What if you retired early?"

"Waylon. What's this all about?"

"Freehold is growing. We're involved in complex business deals and delicate diplomatic matters. I've been flying by the seat of my pants up until now. Rusty, what I need is a good negotiator, an experienced man, a diplomatic man. A man would be richly compensated for his talents."

"Are you serious?"

"I am," Waylon replied. "I don't need an immediate answer, but will you at least think about it?"

"Can I have some time?"

"Of course, but take the vacation regardless of any decision. It would be good to see you and your family will have a great time. You won't even have to buy a time share."

"Let me talk it over with my wife."

"You know how to get in touch with me."

"Waylon, you are always full of surprises."

The christening ceremony was fairly basic. The doors of the big hangar were opened. The orbiter had been positioned so its nose was poking out from the overhang. Rowen and Felix had driven the entire group out in a small convoy. They surprised Waylon by dressing up for the occasion. The ladies were wearing dresses and the men had ties on, even Omo was wearing one. Waylon wouldn't have bet that there were four ties on the entire island.

Waylon wore his flight suit. It had new wings sewn over the breast. The stylized Freehold wings now sported a shooting star on the crest. He'd earn the right to wear it tomorrow.

His friends were curious about the large hangar. It was empty except for the orbiter with its new name emblazed on the nose and the mobile stairway parked near one wall. He thought it looked exactly right. He even had a bottle of genuine champagne, courtesy of one of their resupply runs.

Marylee was vibrant in her dress, and Waylon was happy to see that she wasn't thinking about what was beneath her feet.

He handed her the bottle. She walked up to the landing gear and posed for photos. Remy was documenting the occasion, either for posterity or the island's web site. Perhaps both, Waylon realized.

Marylee took the bottle by the neck, "I christen thee, Audacious."

With that she smashed the bottle against the main strut of the front landing gear. Foam sprayed, but spared Marylee's dress.

Deni led the clapping.

Waylon handed Marylee a small towel and she wiped her hands dry.

"How'd I do?"

"You did great. Hang on."

He had to chase Deni away from the push broom he had propped up against the hangar wall. He explained that he was the one in work clothes, and she had other events to supervise.

He turned to the rest, "Thank you for coming. I'll meet you over at the party in a few minutes."

"She's magnificent, Waylon," Felix said.

"She is, isn't she?"

"Think I can go up sometime?"

"Earn those wings, and I think you might even get to fly her one day."

Marylee walked over and took his hand. They watched Felix hustle his passengers into the utility vehicle and take off after Rowen toward the port.

"You made his day," she said.

"You made mine," Waylon said, squeezing her hand. "Thanks for doing this for me."

Marylee's voice was tight. "Promise you'll always come back to me."

He kissed her on the forehead, "I do."

The party was a barbeque, island style. That meant hotdogs, kebabs of different types, and a fish dish or two. Somebody had even made a banner congratulating Freehold's first astronaut. It made him smile every time he looked at it.

Waylon circulated through the party, gauging people's reaction to the idea of bringing his lawyer into the fold. Remy particularly liked the idea. "Our Foreign Minister perhaps," he said. It got a laugh.

The group had previously discussed the pros and cons of setting up a government. It was a free flowing discussion with surprisingly different opinions on what shape their government should take. Deni may have hated the communists, but her idea of government was pretty authoritarian. The Truong brothers liked the idea of a council whereas Rowen favored a business model. Later they had printed up joke name tags with their titles on them. Every island resident was an agency head or minister of something. Some brave joker had scratched out 'Surgeon General' on Marylee's tag and written 'Waylon's Personnel Entertainment Director.' He was keeping that one taped to the refrigerator at the house. So far, she hadn't complained.

The party ended early, in deference to Waylon's schedule. His friends gathered to say goodbye, he'd be very busy in the morning and wouldn't have time to speak to them all.

He held his hands up to get their attention.

"I wish I could bring back souvenirs, but the gift shops are probably going to be closed."

That got a chuckle.

"The next time we talk it will be a long distance call. Good night everybody!"

Waylon was happy but tired and let Marylee drive them to the house. He took a shower and tried to stick to his routine. He had a lot on his mind, but despite the overwhelming sense of anticipation, had nearly fallen asleep.

"Waylon"

"Yeah?"

"Can Penelope help me talk to you while you're gone."

"Penelope can put a call through directly to me anytime you want. Obviously, not if I'm doing something that requires a lot of concentration. You know, like in the middle of a space walk."

"You are not doing that!" she rolled over and smacked him in the chest several times for emphasis.

He grabbed her arm and tickled her in retaliation until she begged him to stop.

"I can see the headlines now; Freehold delays space launch because girlfriend broke astronaut's ribs during violent bedroom encounter."

"I didn't hit you that hard," she said, running her hands over his side.

"Give me a backrub and you're forgiven."

She rolled him over and started kneading his shoulders.

"About Penelope—"

"Honey, she'll do anything you ask."

"Anything?"

Waylon was getting sleepy, "Anything short of destroying the space-time continuum, or causing the apocalypse."

Crystal City, Virginia

The working group was reassessing its mission in light of recent developments. The composition of the group had also changed. Gone were the members that Captain Arnold hadn't requested. The worst of that bunch had been Nathanial Woollcott, representing State Department Intelligence. The irony was not lost on the captain. The other two group members had rarely ever spoken. They had been a drag on the group's deliberations from the start.

Captain Arnold hadn't gotten the entire story yet, but word was filtering around that Woollcott's clearances had been pulled. He was done as far as federal government service was concerned, and there was nothing his anonymous protector could do about it. Woollcott had taken the blame for the compromise of a particularly sensitive piece of espionage gear, how exactly was still a mystery. The final straw for the State Department was his attempt to use Waylon Eckermann's father in some sort of leverage ploy during the recent unpleasantness.

Arnold was no psychologist, but even he knew from reading Eckermann's file that it was a stupid move. The rumors were that the fallout had gone all the way up to the Secretary of State herself.

Claire Chellos from the National Security Council was back, but subdued. She had been honorable enough to call him privately and apologized for not seeing the bigger picture. He accepted her apology, along with the unspoken acknowledgement that she owed him.

Freehold may have moved out of the questionable threat category over to the neutral, if not friendly, category of foreign concerns – but that didn't mean the questions ended.

Arnold half listened to the FBI woman wrap-up her briefing.

"In summary, Freehold, and Waylon Eckermann specifically, are not the targets of any criminal investigation by this organization. That the FBI had been pushed in that direction is the subject of a separate investigation."

"I suppose that means I'm next," Claire Chellos said, "The National Security Council is reevaluating its stance in light of the State Department's new directive. We are still concerned that Freehold is a destabilizing regional factor."

The CIA was next. "Our opinion at CIA is unchanged."

Captain Arnold looked up, that was it? "Do we have any operational intelligence concerning Freehold? If not, I suggest we break. It is my suspicion that our tasking will be withdrawn before the next meeting and the matter assigned to the appropriate agencies as part of their routine duties."

The Air Force representative signaled he had something to say. "Freehold is still very much a concern in our office. They're launching their first manned mission tomorrow and there's much speculation about why."

"I'm sorry, but how do we know this?" Claire Chellos asked.

The Air Force man smiled. "Open source information. Freehold recently unveiled a web site. The most recent update has been an intelligence bonanza."

The conference software displayed the web site to the participants. Arnold used the link to bring up a live version of the site and poke around. It was a beautiful island, of that there was no doubt.

"What concerns the Air Force?" Arnold asked.

"That's a moving target, sir. They'll be only the fourth nation to launch a man into space, but lately we've been focused on their space station. We're talking about another exclusive club there. The previous programs all have one key thing in common, low Earth orbits.

"Let me jump back a little. Freehold is just now launching a manned mission. That means their previous efforts were all automated. That's nothing new, but combining that with automated orbital construction? That's impressive."

"We seem to use that word a lot when talking about Freehold," Captain Arnold said. "You were discussing orbits?"

"Right, what we do in orbit is governed by throw weight and energy expenditure. How much mass can we lift on a rocket and where can we place it in orbit? The lower the orbit, the less energy required. Freehold threw convention out the window and built a station high up in geosynchronous orbit, why?"

Captain Arnold tapped his desk absently. He knew a little about the subject but was having trouble following all the different threads.

"You imply that there's a significant difference in their approaches. Can you clarify that for us mere mortals?" the FBI woman asked.

The Air Force man nodded, "Take the International Space Station for example. Its orbit isn't a perfect circle. At the high end it's in the range of two hundred and seventy miles above the earth's surface and makes approximately fifteen orbits a day. That orbital path allows the station to see a new bit of the earth on every pass. It's what gives us those great images.

"The Freehold station, they're calling it 'Pacifica' by the way, is in a geosynchronous orbit. That means it's flying relatively stationary above the same spot over the South Pacific at an altitude of some twenty-two thousand miles above the earth."

"That's a big difference," Chellos said.

"It's a huge difference. Not only do you have to lift the weight of the cargo to that orbit, you have to take any crew back and forth as well. There's a huge energy cost. How has Freehold overcome that?"

Nobody had the answer.

"The why is just as big a question as the how. Our NASA partners say it makes no sense. It's not like you can travel in a straight line from Freehold to the station above their heads. The fixed position is also limiting as a platform for scientific study. We're left with speculation until Freehold clarifies matters for us either by announcing it or by something we can spot for ourselves."

"Does this run the risk of straying beyond our mandate?" Claire Chellos asked.

"I would say definitely not," the Air Force man replied. "There are enormous strategic implications in Freehold's capabilities, and the reaction it's forcing."

"How so?" asked Captain Arnold.

"The Chinese," replied the Air Force man.

"Explain."

"The Chinese space program operates under a cloud of secrecy, but they're very happy to promote program milestones or manned launches. We also know they're watching Freehold closely. In the last two days, the Chinese have moved a rocket to the pad at Xichang. It's unusual because they don't launch manned missions from Xichang, only from Jiuquan. Xichang is used to launch heavy lift satellites, mostly into their own geosynchronous orbits. The vehicle on the pad there now is topped by an older Shenzhou 6 capsule that they must have taken out of storage. Shenzhou is their Apollo program.

"It's under a total security blanket. There've been no public proclamations or any of the usual prelaunch announcements. There's no doubt they intend to launch, because they've scrambled the Yuanwang tracking fleet from port. They're floating space tracking stations used to make up gaps in their ground coverage. One of them was in the middle of a refit, but put to sea anyway."

"Isn't it a leap to tie Freehold and this Chinese launch together?" the woman from the National Security Council asked.

"We've talked about the series of incidents between the Chinese and Freehold. They sent an intelligence ship halfway across the Pacific to lurk around that island. Clearly there's some kind of tit for tat going on. The Chinese have been making moves in the commercial launch business. They may feel their position is threatened and are trying to show that their program can be flexible and innovative."

The Air Force man sent a batch of reports and white sheets on the Chinese space program to the shared server space. Arnold glanced through them quickly and forwarded them to his reading queue.

"CIA has a slight different take on the moves out of Beijing."

"What's the view at Langley?" the Air Force man asked.

"We think it's posturing for the new ruling group. They're trying to show that they have the strong hand. Freehold is a good target. If the Chinese had been successful in grabbing the suborbital vehicle off Taiwan, it would be a big win. They've done similar things before as you may recall. There's little downside if it goes wrong because Freehold doesn't have any standing. Freehold's endorsement of Taiwan is just the cherry on top of the sundae as far as Beijing is concerned."

"So a lot of show and bluster," Arnold asked.

"Essentially."

Freehold Shuttle Audacious was at the end of the runway, poised for takeoff. There was intermittent cloud cover in the area, but no rain over the island at the moment. Waylon checked his instruments out of habit. The space suit felt good. He reached up and fingered his necklace before tucking it under the protective layer he wore beneath the suit. He put on his helmet and locked it into place.

He'd had a private moment in the hangar with Marylee before boarding. She presented him with a silver four leaf clover charm from a bracelet of hers. It had been a struggle to get the necklace off and the charm added while in the suit. He liked the contrast between the gold cross and the silver clover leaf. He didn't know what his mother would have thought of the juxtaposition.

He'd been thinking about his mother a lot lately, he realized. He tried to remember his freshman psychology class. Was that a bad thing? Maybe it was all about Marylee. She had left the hangar quickly and joined the others at the tower and reception building. The island residents were having a breakfast picnic to see Waylon take off.

"All vehicle systems are go, Waylon," AI Barry said "The weather is nominal and the launch window is clear."

"Penelope, you can do the honors."

The AI was giving the play by play to the island residents over their phones.

"... 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, Go."

Waylon gave one last tug to his restraints and pushed the throttles up. Audacious sounded different than the Rapid X. It felt that way in the controls too. It was big and precise where Rapid X was nimble. Audacious was all business.

The nose came up and velocity began to climb. Waylon had no time for thoughts about what he was leaving behind. His focus was on the front view and his instruments.

Acceleration pushed him deep into the seat. He could have eliminated the sensation, but he discovered that he preferred the feedback it gave him. Flying one of the AI designs could border on the antiseptic at times. The orbiter quickly punched through the cloud layer and the blue sky above was already turning dark.

He watched the numbers climb and breathed against the hand that pressed on his chest. Velocity continued to increase and the altitude number was a near blur. It had taken six seconds from wheels up to pass through his previous altitude record.

He watched the numbers tick by for a few more seconds.

"Congratulations, Waylon," AI Barry said. "You just passed the Karman line, you are officially an astronaut."

Sixty-two miles above the earth and climbing, the smile on Waylon's face was growing larger. Two minutes into the flight, Audacious and her passenger had reached their initial orbit.

"Penelope pass this to the ground for me," he said. "Audacious to Freehold. She flies like a dream. We're safely in orbit and I can't wait to send you pictures. The view ... is amazing! Audacious out."

Waylon unbuckled as quickly as he could. The curve of the earth below revealed South America, to be quickly followed by the Atlantic and then Africa. It would take a day and a half to reach geosynchronous orbit from their current trajectory. Audacious could do it much faster, but not without sending every tracking station on the planet into a frenzy.

Trying to shed a space suit in microgravity while staring out a window is tougher than it sounds, but he managed it. Every boyhood dream of his had come true. All the great ones had been here before and now he shared the view. Names popped into his head; Grissom, Shirra, Shepard, Lovell, Armstrong, Aldrin ... the Gemini and Apollo programs had fascinated him in school. His own generation had the space shuttle but their crews were less known, except for the tragedies. The modern NASA films weren't as cool as the early program, at least to him.

It was because those men were the first. They were true explorers. Twelve of those early pioneers had walked on the moon. The shuttle astronauts had done great things, but they hadn't ventured beyond planetary orbit.

"Think anybody will remember my name?" he asked.

"That is an unusual question, Waylon," AI Barry said. "Why do you ask?"

"I was thinking about the great astronauts."

"Ah, like Yuri Gagarin, a true pioneer in earth's history," the AI replied.

That was not a name he had considered. His helmet bumped into the back of his head. Waylon took the time to secure it and the suit correctly, and pulled his regular flight suit on over the body garment he'd wear during the mission as a last ditch safety measure.

He could have floated from window to window for hours. They had simulated the view during training but it was completely different in person. The curve of the earth, the thin layer of atmosphere above it, he was hooked. He'd heard astronauts talk about it and had seen the incredible footage they brought back. All of that didn't begin to do the view justice.

He spent hours watching.

He did have duties. Audacious had to move into a transitional orbit in order to reach geosynchronous orbit. The AIs allowed Waylon to be an active participant. He felt more like an honest astronaut that way instead of supernumerary cargo.

As the end of his first day in orbit approached, Waylon had Penelope connect him to Marylee for a video chat via their tablet computers.

"Wait. Penelope, are there any problems with you being here with me and your duties on Freehold?"

"No, Waylon. We have instant communication with the island. My physical location is not a limiting factor. I am glad to have been along for your first space flight."

"Thanks, Penelope, I'm glad you're here too."

The connection went through and Marylee's face appeared on his screen.

"So, do anything interesting today?" she asked.

"Nah, just hung around the house."

She smiled.

"Where are you anyway?" he asked.

"Deni and Rowen offered me their couch. It's been kind of crazy here today."

"What's up?"

"You!" she laughed. "Our website crashed. I had to get Felix to authorize more money for computer stuff. The hosting service company thought they were under some sort of denial of service attack."

"How'd so many people find out?" he asked.

"Some of the specialty space blogs reported it and it spread from there. Apparently Freehold's unusual space program has a few underground fans. The launch has made a lot of newscasts. 'Tiny Pacific island launches man into space, ' sorts of stuff. My mom even called wanting to know if you were the same young fellow I was off chasing. I told her that you were the man I was sleeping with—"

"You did not!"

"Did so. She's happy for me."

"That makes two of us, then," Waylon replied with a grin.

"Waylon, media is crawling out of the woodwork. The only thing saving us from total craziness is that they can't get here. Everybody was over earlier and we watched the news channels on the satellite and ate popcorn. The story got ten minutes on CNN. Mostly talking to space experts trying to guess what kind of vehicle it is and what you're doing up there. They even interviewed an old roommate of yours."

"Which one?"

"Leon at Northwest Texas State," she answered.

"Good grief."

"Waylon, the media interest isn't dying down. It's worldwide."

"What do you think we should do?"

"I think you should do interviews."

He wasn't expecting that. He'd been thinking more along the lines of a couple of press releases via the web site. "If you think it will help, I guess we could try it. Can you call Arman and warn him. It hadn't even crossed my mind when I talked to him last."