CHAPTER 17:
Game, Set . . .
George J @SpaceFan
He really just ripped off the door and turned over the car on his own?
WSJS+ Local and National NewsStream
@yournewsnowNC
@spacefan, let’s not forget the brave residents of Mount Airy who assisted in the rescue.
George J @SpaceFan
@yournewsnowNC, sure, they helped, but HE RIPPED THE DOOR OFF THE CAR WITH HIS BARE HANDS!
ChirpChat, September 2042
Jen stepped off the train platform feeling nervous. The odd sensation in the pit of her stomach had increased over the ride up to Maryland. She and Shepard had been looking forward to this weekend, so why did it also fill her with this sense of unease? After all, she’d talked with Sally Prichard over the comm when she interviewed her for her for both the article and the biography. Today they would meet face to face for the first time.
She’d returned to Richmond three months ago. The interlude in Hawaii had been wonderful, but The Times wanted her back in the office, even if she was working on astronaut features and the Shepard biography. Shep had been assigned as a civilian medical consultant to MarsX and NASA, which entailed frequent trips between D.C., Houston, and Tucson. He was officially based at NASA’s Goddard Space Center in Greenbelt, Maryland, where he had real-time access to telemetry from the Moon, Mars, and Percheron—the ship which carried personnel from Earth to Mars and back. She rode the hyperloop from Richmond to the Baltimore-Washington International Airport on those rare weekends he was in town. From there it was thirty minutes by surface rail to Greenbelt. She hadn’t thought too hard during the ride regarding their plans for the weekend, but as she walked out of the station into the housing development, her thoughts kept returning to the upcoming meeting.
Sally was “the other woman” in Shep’s heart—or maybe that was the other way around—Jen was the other woman. After all, he called her “Momma.”
This was a long holiday weekend—at least for Shep—not so much for her, since the newspaper only took off Monday for Labor Day. However, NASA gave Shep Friday off as well, so she coerced Leo into letting her take the day in the guise of working on the biography.
Shep’s townhouse was within walking distance from the Greenbelt rail station. She let herself in with the key he’d given her soon after he’d rented the place from a friend. That person had only lived here for a few years, and rented it out to NASA staff who were assigned to Goddard for intervals too long for a hotel, and not long enough for purchase or rental. It was fully furnished, which was fortunate, since Shep didn’t have much of his own.
She left her rolling suitcase on the lower floor. They’d be headed out to the garage on this level soon. She went up the steps to the next floor. The kitchen and living room were neat and clean . . . but Shep wasn’t there. There was a faint buzzing sound coming from upstairs.
Jen walked up to the bedroom floor and found him in the bathroom, cordless clippers in hand as he clipped his hair back to its customary half-inch buzz cut. “You know, if you let somebody help you with that, she might be able to even out the back and catch those stray hairs from around your ears.” She’d teased him about his habit of cutting his own hair and offered to do it several times. This was the first time she’d actually caught him in the act.
She reached over, took the clippers from his hand, and touched him on the back to get him to lean over. He was taller than she was, and she needed to get the back of his neck. It took a couple minutes to clean up the edges. When she was done, she laid her hand flat on his bare back and told him to stand up and look in the mirror.
He smiled. As far as Jen was concerned, it lit up the room and chased away her earlier unease. “Thanks, love,” he said.
In the bedroom, he grabbed a polo shirt and put it on.
“Okay hon, I’m ready, let’s go.” He carried a small duffel, since he only needed a few incidentals for the weekend. Most of his possessions and clothes were still stored at Aunt Sally’s.
They walked back down to the first floor and out to the garage. He owned a classic Mustang convertible—bright red in its day. It was well kept, and sixty years of care and rebuilding had kept it close to showroom appearance. She tossed her suitcase in the back seat, and Shepard followed it with his duffel. He put the top down and they pulled out into the warm summer day.
Jen had a hat as well as a scarf to tie it down, but there was just something anachronistic about riding in the convertible. She generally didn’t need sunscreen, but since she could still burn, and the white interior reflected back onto her shoulders and face, she’d applied a little as a precaution.
One of the nicer benefits of her article had been that Virginia allowed Shepard to renew his driver’s license without the handicap endorsement, and with the manual drive endorsement for the classic car. The model dated back almost eighty years, although this particular car was about twenty years younger. No one dared call it “antique” to Shep’s face. The engine had been changed out to accommodate new fuels and electronic systems, but it was a completely manual car. There was no self-driving or automation. Shep relished the act of driving—it was a link to the freedom he’d felt as a pilot and astronaut. He hadn’t yet been able to renew his pilot certification, so “flying” down the interstate with the top down was the closest thing. For now.
The small city of Lexington in central Virginia was the home of one of the oldest private universities in America—Washington and Lee University. The town was actually due west from Richmond, but since one goal of this weekend was the road trip with Shep, it would be a more roundabout trip than if she gone there directly.
The area of town near the university and neighboring Virginia Military Institute hadn’t changed much in the nearly three hundred years since founding of the Augusta Academy, which would eventually become WLU. Stately buildings of WLU and VMI led to the intersection of Washington and Jefferson streets, which were lined with classical small town buildings housing shops and offices. Those in turn gave way to a small business district, and then to suburbs serving the colleges and the larger cities of Roanoke and Charlottesville, each less than an hour commute via autodrive.
Shep’s Aunt Sally lived just outside Lexington in a small development where houses didn’t crowd up so much against their neighbors. It was a classic farmhouse with wrap-around porch and bedrooms peeking out through dormer windows on the upper floor. Jen thought it looked like it could have come straight out of the early half of the Twentieth-Century. She was not far off. Shep told her that the house had been rebuilt several times, including modernization in the 1990s and renovation in the early 2000s.
Sally was standing at the door as they drove up. She was a slight woman of five-and-a-half feet in height. Her blonde hair had faded with age, never truly becoming gray, never quite turning white—it had simply become lighter as time progressed. She had pale skin with fine lines around the mouth and the palest blue eyes Jen had ever seen. The contrast with Shep’s black hair and hazel eyes was striking, and Jen supposed he must have gotten those looks from his mother. Shep’s aunt had a bright smile and glistening eyes to welcome home the nephew she loved and raised. She held her arms wide and Shep rushed up to hug her.
“Hi, Momma. I’m home.”
Jen held out her hand, but Sally shook her head and embraced her as well.
“I am so glad to meet you, Jen. Glennie hasn’t talked about anyone, or anything, else in weeks! Welcome. Welcome home.”
The Shepard-Prichard home showed signs of having been modified for the time when Uncle Hoop had been wheelchair-bound. There were ramps instead of steps and low door handles that could be accessed from a seated position. Jen had wondered if Shep had also had to use them in that configuration while he was recuperating, but he’d told her that this was only his second visit home since the accident.
The inside of the house was cozy. It was not absolutely neat, but it was clean. Jen hadn’t been sure exactly what to expect; modern entertainments still clung to stereotypes of last-century décor or hordes of cats, but the house looked welcoming and comfortable.
They moved to the living room, where the mantle over the fireplace caught her eye. On it were three wooden cases—two were triangular and contained folded flags and medals. On the right was Roland Shepard’s, a U.S. flag with two stars—a bronze star for 9/11, and a silver star awarded posthumously for bravery. In the center was Hugh Pritchard’s United Kingdom flag, along with a silver star and purple heart. The square case on the left had no flag, for it was Shep’s. It contained a purple heart, two silver stars, a bronze star, a civilian bravery medal awarded by the State Police of North Carolina, and a Coast Guard Gold Lifesaving medal.
Shep received a call on his wristcomm and stepped away to take it, so Sally took Jen on a tour of the rest of the house. The kitchen was open and filled with low counters and cabinets for Hoop. The garage held a white Mustang convertible, twin to the one Shep was driving. Sally explained that this one had been Roland’s, and it had been the reason Hoop had bought the red one. Shep had insisted that she keep her brother’s car, while he took the one his uncle had used to teach him to drive.
The bedrooms were upstairs: a master bedroom, guest room, and Shep’s room—much as he’d left it when he went to medical school. There were a few medals, trophies, and certificates from school years—both for Roland and for Shep. There was a framed print of the famous “Earthrise” picture from the Apollo 8 mission, another of an astronaut standing on the Moon, and a picture of stars and galaxies as seen by the Hubble and James Webb space telescopes. On the back of the closet was a poster of a 1970’s model with long wavy, blonde hair, posing in a one-piece swimsuit. Sally explained that it had originally been her brother’s, and Shep had never removed it.
“Momma, I can’t believe you saved all of this,” Shep said from the doorway, his call completed.
“Of course, honey. These are your memories. I kept them for you.” She pointed to a couple of framed news articles—the first was about Shep performing the first appendectomy in space as part of the 2029 Moon mission. The second article was Jen’s.
Jen blushed when she realized that Sally was watching her as she stared at the articles.
“You did a good job, honey. I’m proud of my Glennie, and I’m proud of you for seeing the young man I know and I love.”
Jen didn’t know what to say. It was flattering and embarrassing at the same time. “Thank you, I guess. I just write what I see.”
Sally took her hand and squeezed it. “As I said, you see what I know.” Sparing her further embarrassment, she turned to Shep. “All done? Your phone call? I hope it was good news.”
“It is. It turns out I have business in Richmond on Tuesday morning.”
“Oh?”
He looked a bit sheepish. “Yeah, I have to go see the medical licensing board. I’m getting my license back!”
“Oh, good.” Sally clapped her hands. “About time. That sounds like reason to celebrate. There’s pot roast in the oven and champagne chilling. I knew this would be a day to celebrate.”
Dinner conversation turned to stories of Hawaii and tales of Shep’s time at the high elevation training sites. “Have they decided what they’re going to do with you next?” Sally asked.
“They’re still talking about whether or not I can be certified for space travel. They won’t even send me to low orbit, let alone the Moon or Mars. I’ve put in a request for the human spaceflight lab at Johnson Space Center—either that or Space Force’s lab in Tucson. Part of what they have me doing at Goddard is reading satellite sensor data on radiation, gravity, magnetic flux, and all of the other conditions and comparing it against the tests performed on my bionics. I think they’re hoping it will discourage me, but as far as I’m concerned, there’s nothing up there that can make any difference with how I function. In fact, my bionics were specifically designed so that I could go back into space. There are distinct advantages to having a person who cannot be as severely injured in space by mechanical, radiation, gravity, or oxygen levels. All of these things I can do it better.”
“I’m sure you can, honey. I believe in you.”
“I’m glad somebody does, I guess.” He grinned at Jen. “Well okay, two of you. I’m just not sure everybody else does, especially Mission Medical—and you know who is on Mission Medical.”
“Yvette? You still blame her, don’t you, honey.”
“Of course, I do. She blocked me at every turn and then took the position that I wanted. The Mars mission was mine. She didn’t want it. She’d left the Force—told me that was my dream, not hers. ROTC was just a scholarship program. But I knew she wanted to go to space, and she always managed to take what I had my eye on. What was she doing on the Moon in the first place? Why was she even there? What gave her the right to make decisions for me?”
Shep was angry, but it was clear from Sally’s face that she’d heard this before and tried to talk him down from it on repeated occasions. Jen stayed quiet; this wasn’t really her argument.
“Look at it from her perspective.” Sally suggested softly. “Her father lingered for a long time with Alzheimer’s Disease. He required constant care. Her mother’s stroke put her in a wheelchair and she couldn’t even feed herself. All Yvette could see was that you were going to be crippled—losing your legs, likely losing an arm. Someone would have to care for you and she just didn’t think it right to make a decision that would cause you to be in pain and to require care for the rest of your life.”
“It wasn’t her decision to make,” he growled, “I told her they could fit me for bionics. I wouldn’t have been confined to a wheelchair even with standard prosthetics, and I certainly am not now. She wanted me out of the way so she could take the Mars mission. She didn’t have the vision to see what I can do. She still doesn’t. General Boatright showed me the letter where she told Command—in her official capacity with Mission Medical—that there was no way any medical officer would put a cripple back into space. She’s been sitting on Mars for two years and has no idea what I’m capable of, yet she’s still telling others what I can and can’t do.”
“Is it really her you’re mad at?” Jen almost whispered it. She half wanted him not to hear, but she knew better. She was less certain about whether the intent of her question would be understood. She wasn’t sure this was entirely about Yvette. She’d seen that, deep down, he still had a lot of insecurity. That insecurity occasionally came out as anger at the world for not believing in him.
Shep sighed and the tension released. “No, not entirely. Command doesn’t have to listen to her. She doesn’t know what I’m capable of. For that matter, you two, Marty, and Nik are the only ones on my side. The general? I sometimes think he only half believes it, although those chirps of his lately have been pretty supportive. I guess some people will have doubts until I rub their noses in it.”
He looked a bit ashamed at his own outburst and hung his head. They continued eating in silence for a few moments before Sally spoke up.
“Jennifer, sweetie, your article really does help. A number of my friends read it and told me how proud they are to have known Glennie when he was growing up. They said I must be proud—and I am. Of both of you. What you’ve done—what you’re doing—is very important. Write your book and tell the world what he can do. This is how we convince them of the strength of character he has.”
She turned to Shep. “You, young man, you’re mad at the world. I thought I taught you better than that. It’s just the same as you were after your mother died. I thought you had gotten over that, too, but here you are again. No one died this time. You lived and you get to go on living and you get to make a difference. You have made a difference. We will deal with that—all of it. You concentrate on getting back to space.”