Of Salt and Sand by Barnes Michael

Author:Barnes, Michael [Barnes, Michael]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Michael Barnes
Published: 2016-02-27T23:00:00+00:00

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It had been raining in Florida for nearly five days straight. At Cape Canaveral Air Force Station, modifications planned for launch-pad 36A had been setback in the ongoing deluge, and Jimmy Reitman was not happy. His schedules demanded precision. These design alterations were paramount for his HOPE satellites—currently scheduled to be launched in a mere two-weeks.

The two massive birds—far and away the largest objects ever to be propelled into space by human means—had already preempted two other solid launches: a French built exploration probe and a LEO (Low Earth Orbit) geostationary communication satellite. Neither client had been happy about NASA bumping their launches—that being an understatement. But Jimmy neither cared nor concerned himself with NASA’s other clients. His babies were all that mattered, and having pumped enough money into the space agency’s budget to finance an entire gamut of exploratory hardware, he wasn’t worried about accommodations. Besides, he had his military guard dogs to muscle any real obstacles.

Fortunately, most of the work thus far had been done inside NASA’s largest hangar: Hangar One, just southwest of the launch-site. There, the focus had been on reengineering the eight Taurus-class rocket engines—four on each bird. When complete, there would be very little of the original Taurus left.

The hangar had been commandeered by Reitman’s military constituents, and turned into more of an Area 51 than pre-launch hangar. The eight Taurus engines had gone in . . . but Reitman engines would be coming out—engines enhanced beyond 300% of their original thrust. Only by using the HOPE technology could such massive structures be hurled into orbit—a nominal task for the superior systems.

Jimmy shoved his cellphone back into his raincoat pocket and hurried out of the hangar. He opened a large umbrella, glanced upward into the darkness, and cursed the drizzle—at least the downpour had subsided slightly with nightfall. He passed the armed sentry at the entrance on his way out, tossing the men a forced nod, then hurried to his black Mercedes Benz which was parked right up near the front. He quickly got in and sped off with his characteristic squeal of the tires.

It was a thirty-minute drive from Cape Canaveral Air Force Station to Patrick Air Force Base. Jimmy made the stretch in eighteen minutes. It took him another five minutes to get through Base Security. By the time he had found Building 1370, parked, and headed in through the double-glass entrance, a full forty-minutes had passed since his phone call with Colonel Briggs—his precious gained minutes were ticking away.

There was no one else in view as Jimmy headed down a long, well-lit hallway. Besides the squeak of his damp-soled shoes on waxed tile, the only other sound was that of moving air from vents in the ceiling above. Everyone else had long since left for the day, and the emptiness of the building seemed to permeate right to his bones.

Soon, as he rounded a dogleg in the hallway, he saw a dark-wood doorway at the end of the corridor, right where Briggs had said it would be.

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