Powersat

Austin, Texas

Dan was on his cell phone with his corporate counsel as the limousine inched past the state capitol in the crowded rush-hour streets. The six flags of Texas hung limply on their poles in the soggy August heat. Len Kinsky, his public relations director, sat beside him in the air-conditioned limo, trying to look as if he weren’t listening.

“The liability suits are coming in,” the lawyer was saying, his voice like the whine of an annoying mosquito. “It’s going to add up to billions, Dan.”

“But nobody got hurt,” Dan said, feeling exasperation rising in him as he always did when talking to lawyers. “The wreckage hit one shed, from what I’ve been told. Otherwise it all fell on open land.”

“Owners are still suing,” the lawyer replied. “Property damage, emotional pain and suffering. One woman’s claiming you caused her to miscarry.”

“Double-damn it to hell and back,” Dan groused.

“Insurance won’t cover, either,” the lawyer went on. “The carrier’s canceled all your policies.”

Dan leaned back against the limo’s plush seat and tried to control his temper. He remembered Mark Twain’s advice: When angry, count to four. When very angry, swear.

Instead, he said into the phone, “We don’t settle with anybody. Understand? Not a cent. Not until we find out what caused the accident.”

“Dan, it’s Astro’s responsibility no matter what the cause of the accident was.”

Dan almost said, Not if the spaceplane was sabotaged. But he held back. “No settlements. None. Not until I tell you. Understand?”

“It’s foolish, Dan. It’s just going to run up your legal fees.”

“Better spend it while you can, then,” Randolph said. “Before we declare bankruptcy.”

He said good-bye to the lawyer and snapped the phone shut.

“Lawyers,” he grumbled to Kinsky.

The P.R. director scowled back at him. “Tell me about it. My divorce lawyer just bought himself a Lamborghini.”

Before Dan could slip the phone back into his jacket pocket, it began playing “Take Me Out to the Ball Game” again. Dan huffed and peered at the tiny screen. Joe Tenny.

“Good news for a change, boss,”Tenny said without preamble. “Divers recovered the nose cap. Fell into Lake Travis, near Johnson City.”

Randolph saw that the limo was at last pulling into the driveway of the Hyatt Regency. He pressed the phone to his ear harder and tried to keep from saying anything he didn’t want Kinsky to know. “That is good news, Joe. How banged up is it?”

Tenny caught on immediately. “You’re not alone?”

“That’s right.”

“I haven’t seen the piece yet. The Texas authorities are ’coptering it down here. But I saw the dive team’s video. Handheld, kinda shaky, but the thruster assembly’s recognizable, at least.”

What the hell does that mean? Dan asked himself. Aloud, he said, “I’m going to this party of Governor Scanwell’s now. I’ll call you from my hotel room afterward.”

“Gotcha,” said Tenny. The phone went dead.

Dan never felt comfortable in a tuxedo or a dinner jacket, which he was now wearing. At least I blend in with the crowd, he thought as he followed Kinsky across the hotel’s spacious lobby, up one flight of moving stairs to the huge atrium, with tier upon tier of balconies circling around it Dan craned his neck, gawking, for a few seconds. Then Kinsky tugged at his sleeve.

“Come on, boss. You’re here to meet the governor.”

Dan followed his public relations director. Len looks relaxed enough in his straitjacket, he thought Then he grinned. He looks like the best-dressed scarecrow in town.

There was a reception line. The atrium was crowded with women in expensive gowns and sparkling jewelry, men in dinner jackets and bow ties. Randolph spotted a few daring guys who wore no ties, only a diamond stud or a piece of Navajo turquoise at their throats. Conversations buzzed and laughter echoed across the broad atrium. Waiters carried trays of drinks. Dan asked one of the prettier waitresses for a glass of amontillado. From the perplexed look on her face he figured he’d never see her again or his drink at all. But as they edged along the creeping reception line she came back, all smiles, and handed him a tumbler filled with Dry Sack. On the rocks.

Be grateful for small miracles, Dan told himself as he sipped the drink. Kinsky, he saw, had a martini. You can take the man out of New York, Dan thought, but you can’t take the New York out of the man.

It wasn’t until he was giving his name to the flunky who was setting up the introductions for the governor that he saw Jane. As the flunky whispered into his pin mike, Dan saw her standing beside Scanwell, tall and straight and beautiful as a princess out of a fairy tale, her copper hair falling to her bare shoulders, her strapless gown of emerald green showing her enticing figure to great advantage.

Dan’s insides went hollow. It was like being in space, in zero gravity, that feeling of falling, endlessly falling. She’s more beautiful than ever, he thought. The years have been good to her. His eyes followed the graceful curve of her bare shoulder. How many time had he kissed that skin, caressed her flesh, made love to her as if no one else existed in the entire universe?

“Boss?” Kinsky nudged him gently. Dan saw that the coupIe ahead of them had shaken hands with the governor and it was his turn to step up and meet his host for the evening. And the woman standing beside him.

Another flunky with a tiny plug in his ear said over the hubbub of the crowd, “Governor, Senator, may I present Mr. Daniel Hamilton Randolph and Mr. Leonard Kinsky. Sirs, allow me to introduce Senator Jane—”

“Hello Jane,”said Randolph.

She kept her self-control, except for a moment’s flash in her sea-green eyes. “Hello Dan,” she said, allowing herself a cool smile.

“You two know each other,” Governor Scanwell said, looking slightly perplexed.

Dan said, “We’re old friends. At least, we used to be.”

“Dan and I met years ago,” Jane said to the governor, “when I had just started in politics. Then he took off for outer space.”

“Outer space?” The governor offered his hand to Randolph. His grip was firm without being overly powerful. He’s had lots of practice, Dan thought. Scanwell looked like a rangy, weather-beaten ranch hand in a monkey suit and cowboy boots. All he lacked was a Texas ten-gallon hat. Then Dan realized the governor was no older than he himself, and his cowboy look must be carefully cultivated.

“Dan lived in orbit for more than a year,” Jane was saying.

“Really?”

“I helped to build the Japanese power satellite,” Dan explained.

“And now you’ve built one for the United States,” Scanwell said, showing that at least he had been briefed about Dan. “We’ll have to talk about that later on.”

That was the cue to move away and let the people behind him shake the governor’s hand.

“Yes,” Dan said. “I’d like to talk to you about that.”

Another of the governor’s aides ushered Dan and Kinsky away from Scanwell. And Jane.

“Let’s hit the buffet line and get some appetizers,” Kinsky said, tugging at his collar. “I’m starving. And dinner’s going to be stupid, I bet. No pastrami. No blintzes. Nothing but dumb Texas steaks.”

“You go. I’m not hungry.”Dan stood in the milling, swirling crowd and let the chatter and laughter and clink of glasses surround him as he kept his eyes riveted on Jane, standing beside Morgan Scanwell. She never looked his way. Not once.