The Cassandra Project by Jack McDevitt Read Free Book Online Page A

reason, not to. So if the mission won’t be endangered by our lack of knowledge, what is so goddammed important that they’re lying like rugs?
    They
had
to be lying. That was the one certainty. But about what?
    He had to force himself to look at it logically.
    The ship took off. Check.
    The ship circled the Moon. Check.
    The ship returned to Earth on schedule. Check.
    What the hell could have happened?
    He walked to the window and stared out—and up—again. And suddenly he began to get excited. It was almost there, almost within his mental reach. He stood perfectly still, trying to stem his excitement, to just concentrate on the problem—and finally he
had
it!
    He knew what had happened, why they had lied—and if he couldn’t force the president to tell the country (and he was sure he couldn’t, because the president would never admit to lying to the electorate), and he couldn’t get Jerry to show him the data he needed, he was going public with what he thought had happened and making the government confirm or deny it before he took off.
    Yes, he concluded mentally. To hell with a pair of pilots and three scientists. This was important enough to lose a scientist and add a billionaire cowboy who had figured it out.

4
    Jerry was on hand to greet Frank Kirby when he came through the doors of the Hall of Fame. Despite what Jerry had expected, he did not appear feeble. He was permanently confined to a wheelchair, but his voice was strong, and he shook hands with the grip of a professional wrestler. “Jerry,” he said, smiling broadly, “it’s good to see you again.”
    “And you, Frank. Welcome home.”
    He’d been accompanied by several family members although his wife had remained in Orlando. “Janet asked me to say hello,” he said. “She wanted to come but just wasn’t up to making the trip.”
    He introduced a son and daughter-in-law, and two grandchildren, both probably in their thirties. Mary came over, and they did another round of introductions. The son, whose name was also Frank, thanked Mary for arranging the event. “Dad has done a lot for Orlando,” he said, “since his retirement.” Ordinarily, Jerry knew, she would have passed credit for the idea to him, but on this occasion she let it go. Best not to connect him with the award.
    They strolled into the main dining area, where Kirby got a surprise: Several friends from his NASA years had been brought in. They surrounded him, laughed, offered toasts, shook hands, embraced, introduced family members, and talked about the old days. A gray-haired woman leaning on a cane flashed a wide smile. “It’s good to see you again, Frank,” she said. “How many years has it been?”
    Frank shook his head. “Too many, Myra.”
    The VIP table waited at one end of the room, with places set for ten people. A tabletop lectern had been set up. Harry Eastman was already seated, talking with the operations director. Jerry wandered away from the group and sat down in back with Takara Yoshido, a systems designer.
    Gradually, the guests drifted in. Mary got Kirby placed and took the seat beside him. The Orlando mayor was also present, as well as Laurie Banner, the president’s science advisor. Several representatives from organizations that had benefited at various times from Kirby’s support were present. Florida’s Senator Mayville was across the room, engaged in a spirited conversation with Eugene Cernan.
    “You and Mary did a good job, Jerry,” said Takara. Her features took on a dreamy aspect. “It’s a beautiful gesture. I like to think that someday maybe I’ll be up there to receive the Eastman Award.”
    “What are you doing now to qualify?” Jerry asked.
    “I was looking at Frank’s résumé,” she said. “I have a Girl Scout troop. I guess I’d have to step things up a bit.”
    “It’s a good start, Taki.”
    A few reporters, including Cole, were scattered around the room. A TV camera in back would capture the event for the NASA