Powersat

Washington, D.C.

“So you’re telling this subcommittee that your power satellite is not dangerous?” Senator Quill asked sharply.

Seated at the green baize-covered witness table, Dan said crisply, “That’s right, Senator. A power satellite is no more dangerous than any other electrical power station, if it’s operated properly.”

“But terrorists turned it into a death ray!” snapped an angry-faced white-haired senator several seats down from Quill. “Nearly a thousand people were killed!”

Dan had expected that. “Senator,” he replied patiently, “how do you prevent terrorists from blowing up a nuclear power station?”

The senator’s white brows knit. “Why, you have guards and such.”

“Right,” said Dan. “You protect the facility. And that’s what we’re going to have to do with power satellites. Protect them. Guard them. They are very valuable assets, and just because they’re in space instead of on the ground doesn’t mean that they shouldn’t be protected—or can’t be.”

“Protected how?” Quill asked, anxious to retake control of the hearing.

Dan started his prepared little lecture on building failsafes into the satellite controls and having crews standing by with spaceplanes ready to fly out to a powersat in case of any emergency. As he spoke, though, he wondered where Jane was and why she hadn’t attended this hearing.

By day’s end Dan felt bone tired and ready to fly back to Texas. The Senate subcommittee hearing had gone favorably, he thought. Quill had even broached the idea of proposing to the Department of Defense that the air force take on the task of protecting American assets in orbit.

Dan ate dinner with his new Washington-based public relations staff, who congratulated him on his testimony before the subcommittee. Then he rode out to Reagan National Airport in a hired limousine. The Astro corporate jet was parked outside the general aviation terminal. As he ducked out of the limo Dan saw that a dank, chilly fog was rolling in from the Potomac. He heard the thundering roar of a commercial jetliner taking off. The fog won’t keep us grounded, he thought, with relief. I’ll be home by midnight.

And then his heart flipped as he saw Jane walking toward him from the terminal building. She was wearing a fitted suit—modest, yet it showed her figure to good advantage. Light color; it was hard to make out the shade in the dim, foggy evening light.

“You’re leaving without saying good-bye?” she asked, trying to smile.

“I was hoping we could get together while I was in Washington,” he said, “but then I figured it wasn’t going to work.”

“You’re going back to Texas.”

“And you’re going to the White House.”

She hesitated a heartbeat, then stepped closer to him, so close he could feel the warmth of her, smell the delicate scent of her perfume.

“Dan,” she breathed, “maybe I should go to Texas with you.”

His jaw dropped open.

“I could give it up, the whole thing, all of it,” Jane said.

“Leave Scanwell? Leave Washington?”

She didn’t reply. He saw tears welling in her eyes.

“You can’t do that, Jane,” he heard himself say. “You’d hate yourself in the morning.”

“Be serious—”

“I am. You’d hate me, sooner or later. If Scanwell doesn’t win the election, you’d be miserable.”

“But what about us?”

Now he fell silent for a long, agonizing moment. At last, “It just won’t work, Jane. There’s too much between us.”

“Your satellite.”

“Your career. Scanwell. The White House.”

“My God, Dan… I wish it wasn’t like this.”

“But it is.”

She leaned her head on his shoulder and he slipped his arms around her waist. Dan’s mind was racing, trying to find a way, thinking of what would happen if…

He lifted her chin and looked into her misty green eyes. “I love you, Jane. I always will.”

“And I love you, Dan.”

She kissed him lightly on the lips. He let his arms slide away from their embrace. They stood face to face, almost touching, silent and miserable.

“Well,” he said, “good luck. After you get elected, invite me to the White House.”

“The Lincoln Bedroom,” she said, trying to smile.

Dan realized there were no more words in him. He walked past her to the plane that was waiting for him. It was the most difficult thing he had ever done.